


vodka and smoke

by zouee



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-07 08:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 56,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zouee/pseuds/zouee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry always looks at Zayn, whether it’s watching him walk down the corridor every morning, or observing him from across the cafeteria. He’s always doing something interesting, like drawing in his text books or plugging in his headphones and skipping every song, it doesn’t even have to be exciting, Harry just enjoys watching him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

When he passes him in the hallway, he’s not friendly. He scans the room but never lays an eye on anyone, like he’s not looking at them, but through them. When he walks passed, he might give you a glimpse - if you’re lucky - but otherwise he’ll settle for nothing but a cold shoulder. It’s not like he doesn’t notice there’s someone there — that’s one thing Harry noticed about him, the way he sees and notices everything — but more of the fact that he just wants to let people know that he’s the boss and he’s the one in charge. Harry couldn’t blame him, though. If he looked like him and had half the amount of power, Harry’d probably act the same way too.

The school wasn’t big, so everyone pretty much knew everyone. If you saw a face you hadn’t seen around before, you’d be hallucinating. It wasn’t a great school, it had its ups and downs, also the fact that it has been classified as one of the lower class schools in the area - but Harry didn’t mind it. As long as he was getting an education and passing all his classes and making his mother happy, then that’s all Harry could really ask for.

The heat inside the classroom was hard to get used to, seeing as Harry had just walked 20 miles in the blistering cold. He could feel his nose warm up and his toes slowly starting to regain feeling again. Once he felt the heat get to him, he took off his jacket and scarf and hung it up on the clothes rack next to all the other jackets that had been thrown on there from other classmates.

Harry sat in the front row - it wasn’t like he chose to be, he was allocated it, but again, he didn’t mind it. He didn’t mind anything, really. Not when it came to himself, not when it came to what he wants or needs or what he feels. He’d much rather do what everyone else preferred and he’d always take care of others before he took care of himself. This drove his mother insane. 

First period had started, and it wasn’t unusual that one classmate was absent. He rarely comes to any of his classes, and Harry knew this because - lucky for him - he was in every single one of his classes. Even though Harry’d seen him this morning, he knew the dark-haired boy wouldn’t arrive.

But halfway into the lecture, Harry found out he was wrong.

He strolled in, so casually and cool, as if he was completely unaware that he had missed 15 minutes of class. He wore a grey hoodie underneath his black leather jacket, both fitting him perfectly. His hair was styled like it always was - Harry had never seen it any different - gelled back into a perfect quiff that suited him.

“Zayn, you’re late.” The teacher scolded him, flashing a disapproving look.

Zayn flicked a red slip of paper onto her desk - a late pass - and walked to the back of the classroom to his usual spot; the back row, second desk from the left. Harry was close to the wall, and he took the opportunity to lean back on it so he was on his side. He could still see the teacher, but from the corner of his eye he could catch Zayn.

He looked so domineering, so conceded. So bored.

His shoulders hunched over the small desk, face in his hands, eyes gazing everywhere except for the talking teacher. Harry also had noticed that whenever Zayn was drifting off into a daydream, it was like he wasn’t drifting off into another world, it was like he was just thinking. Like really thinking. And it’s hard to know what goes through his mind. Hard to know what he’s going through, since he’s always got that plastered smouldering look on his face. But Harry wonders if all those things are what make him so intriguing.

Harry always looks at Zayn, whether it’s watching him walk down the corridor every morning, or observing him from across the cafeteria. He’s always doing something interesting, like drawing in his text books or plugging in his headphones and skipping every song, it doesn’t even have to be exciting, Harry just enjoys watching him.

But Zayn never watches Harry - or so he thinks. Harry’s too bland, too irrelevant to catch Zayn’s eye. His face is too average, something that he and Zayn don’t have in common. If Harry could describe Zayn’s face in one word it would be symmetrical. Both of his eyes, so round and brown - they always shine so bright. His eyelashes, curling up and almost hitting the bottom of his eyebrow. Harry’s favourite is when Zayn laughs, when he’s so struck by something and he laughs really hard. It’s beautiful, the way his eyes and nose crinkle up like a little kid, his full set of perfect white teeth showing as his mouth stretches into a grin. It automatically makes Harry smile whenever he sees that, even when he doesn’t know what Zayn’s laughing at.

Harry wants to know him, wants to know what he gets up to on the weekend, and wants to know what sort of music he listens to, what things he sketches when he’s so intrigued with drawing - his pencil furiously yet delicately gliding across the paper in record time, as though he’s completely oblivious to what’s happening around him. He wants to know what kinds of things he enjoys doing, what makes him laugh, cry. Harry wants to know Zayn, and Harry wants Zayn to know him.


	2. Prologue

Friday night, and Harry has no plans. His dad had asked him to go away with him to some ski resort, but Harry knew all he would be doing is entering the skiing competitions and getting up early to compete in them. So Harry declined, telling him that he’d much rather do homework. Which was probably mean, and also a lie.

Open books laid out in front of him, all needing to be studied and looked over, but Harry couldn’t think straight. He never could on a Friday night, he was so easily distracted that everything he tried to do would take 10 minutes longer than anyone else.

He tried to call up Niall, but soon remembered that he was at some party that was going on. Harry was invited, but the only person he really knew was Niall. He also knew that Zayn and his best friend Louis would be there, but there was no way Harry would meet Zayn for the first time by walking up to him, intoxicated and stupid, and making a fool out of himself.

 _”Why does it even matter?”_ Harry thought to himself, collapsing on his bed, his hands covering his face in frustration, _”Why do I care so much about what he thinks of me?”_

He’s had these talks to himself many times before. The first time was when he first saw Zayn, and in the back of his mind he knew he was hot. The second time was when he addressed it, after weeks of suppressing his thoughts. And the third time was when he had a dream about him, it was a short one, but he remembered it as soon as he woke. And now, after he’d been noticing every move this boy did every day.

He couldn’t ask himself why he kept watching him, because he knew the answer. It was almost a crime to not look at Zayn. He had god-like features that were made to be appreciated - but Harry didn’t think that by thinking this, it could be weird.

 _”I’m not even_ gay _,”_ He argued with himself, his thoughts battling out in his mind, _”I just think he’s attractive… So does everyone else.”_ And as though there was a devil and an angel on his shoulder, there was a debate. _”Yeah, but they don’t watch him every day and think about him every time they go home.”_

The opposition of Harry’s thoughts couldn’t argue with that. So instead, he just let out a frustrated grunt and texted Niall.

(Changed my mind… Be there in 2)

~*~

The party was already out of control, and Harry already felt out of place. He walked up to the front steps of the house, passed the groups of people in the front yard, laughing and rolling around on the grass. The first thing he could see when he opened the front door was a room full of drunk, stumbling and loud people, all trying to dance with a drink in their hands. The smell of alcohol and smoke filled Harry’s nose, and after coughing a few times, Harry already felt like he needed to leave.

But just as he turned around, he felt a hand on his forearm - tugging him backwards.

“Mate, you just got here,” Niall’s cheeks were flushed, just like they always were when he had a few to drink, “c’mon, lemme show you around.”

Harry couldn’t decline, so he followed him down the corridor, passing strangers that Niall said hello to. The house was nice, besides all the mess the guests had made. But it was a nice size, double stories, and wasn’t overly crowded. Bit stuffy, though.

“Here’s someone I want ya to meet, Harry,” Niall got his attention and pointed towards the girl in front of them, “her name’s Cara.”

The pretty girl waved, and Harry flashed a smile. Harry knew what Niall was trying to do, and he didn’t want a slice of it.

“Harry,” he introduced himself to her, shaking her hand politely. He then turned to Niall, “is there somewhere we can go outside? It’s gettin’ hard to breathe in here.”

Niall’s grin softened, and flashed Cara an apologetic look before nodding towards Harry and leading him outside.

“What the fuck’s gotten into you?” Niall slapped his arm once they were outside, his expression was more worried than angry.

“W-what?” Harry asked him, touching over his arm the same place Niall slapped.

“It’s not like you to not take up an opportunity to get with a pretty girl, are you okay? Is she not good enough for you?”

Niall always got a bit rough when he had something to drink.

“Dude - relax, she’s great.” Harry sighed, and glanced down at his shoes, then back up to Niall’s face, “actually, Niall… I’ve been feelin’ a little… Weird recently and-“

“Aye, Niall!”

A voice rang a few metres behind Harry, interrupting him. He sighed again as Niall caught someone’s eye and waved to them. Harry couldn’t be bothered turning around to see who it was - but he didn’t have to, since the loud voice started to walk towards them.

“Sorry, mate.” Niall mumbled to Harry, “we can talk later, yeah?”

He looked at Niall for a few seconds, and nodded before someone threw his arm around Niall, then kissed his cheek.

“You’re a _good_ man,” he said, looking droppy-eyed. And that’s when Harry noticed that it was Louis - Zayn’s friend.

Harry flashed Niall a look, raising his eyebrows as a sign of ‘catchya later’ and began to walk away. He couldn’t handle Louis’ loudness in class when he was sober, let alone at a party while he was drunk.

“What’s wrong with this guy?” He heard him ask Niall as Harry walked away.

Niall said something, but compared to Louis’ loud voice, it was only a whisper.

Harry wanted to get drunk. He needed to get drunk. He didn’t care how or what drinks he would have to have, he just needed to get intoxicated the fastest way possible.

“Hey, sailor.”

The voice came from behind him, it was slurred and delicate, and could just be heard above the blaring music. Harry shut the fridge door, a double black in his hand, and saw the petite blonde girl staring back at him. Her body was against the marble bench top in the kitchen which they were standing in. Her eyes were blue, but were hard to tell from all the eyeliner and make up around them.

Harry gave her a nod and a smile - and not being in the mood to talk - he tried to walk away.

“I’m Perrie,” she stated, grabbing his arm. She refused to let him go, and her grip was tight, “who are you?”

Harry let out a slight sigh. He really was not in the mood for small talk, or picking up girls. Which was weird to think about, because he could very well use a girl right now.

“Harry,” he smiled, but didn’t show her his melting smile he usually gave to girls he wanted to bang.

“You’re very attractive,” she seduced, biting her bottom lip slightly. Her fingers grazed down Harry’s arm lightly, reaching his hand. She played with his fingers with her own, then wrapped her hand around his. Perrie looked up at him through her eyelashes, batting them innocently.

“So are you,” Harry replied, telling the truth. She was very attractive. And she didn’t go to school with him, he hadn’t seen her around at all. What’s the harm in hooking up with a complete stranger? After all, maybe it will take Harry’s mind off of things for a few minutes.

He smiled at her again, this time showing his dimples. He let his other hand wrap around her shoulder, bringing her closer. She let go of his occupied hand and laced it around his neck as both his hands then placed on her lower back.

Harry brought Perrie closer, until her eager lips reached his. It was sloppy, since she was drunk and he wasn’t that into it, but it wasn’t bad. Her fingers massaged into Harry’s hair, tangling up with his curls. His hands moved down towards her ass, swiping his tongue across the bottom of her lip.

For a moment, Harry’s thoughts were lost. But for another moment, maybe a tad longer than a split second, Harry wondered what it would be like if Perrie was-

“Zayn!”

The name wasn’t shouted in Harry’s head, but from the mouth of the girl who he’d been kissing. She looked shocked, and guilty. Harry just looked confused.

“What the _fuck_ is this?”

The voice stormed through the room, and it wasn’t until he hit the light of the kitchen, when Harry knew it was Zayn. Harry was certain his stomach was going to flop out of his butt.

“Zayn, please,” Perrie began, she’d already pounced off Harry’s body to the other side of the kitchen in record time, “it wasn’t his fault.”

Harry looked at Zayn - and Harry thinks, for the first time - Zayn looked at him. But not in the way Harry had hoped. His eyes were angry, not daydreaming or scanning, but angry. And they stared right through Harry, making him turn white.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, kissing my girl?” Zayn stepped forward, slamming his drink onto the bench, making Perrie shriek, “you think you’re a player? Huh?”

“I didn’t know she was your girl.” Harry mumbled, almost a whisper, he couldn’t look at Zayn. He kept his eyes to his shoes.

“Oh! You didn’t _know?”_ Zayn almost growled at him, his eyebrows furrowed and his teeth clenched.

Harry shook his head, wanting to cry. He hated confrontation.

“Zayn, honey, come here. Harry’s just-”

 _“Harry?”_ Zayn interrupted her, still staring at the curly-headed quiet boy, now pressed up against the wall. “Listen here, _Harry_ ,” Zayn almost spat out his name in disgust, his arm forced across Harry’s chest, his face only a few centre meters apart, “you’re lucky I’m not smashing your head against that sink over there,” Harry glanced over to the metal sink and he imagined his skull being split open by the hard surface. He gulped, then switched his attention back to Zayn’s face.

It was even more beautiful up close. His eyelashes were so long, and in this light, Harry could’ve sworn he saw a hint of purple in those usually brown eyes of his. His jawline was more defined up close, so were his cheekbones. And his hair-

Why the fuck is Harry thinking about this while he’s being pushed up onto a wall, getting threatened?

“Hey, aren’t you in my maths class?” His tone of voice changed, but he didn’t loosen his strength against Harry’s chest.

“I’m in all of your classes.” Harry replied, showing him a quick, half-hearted smile.

“Huh,” Zayn said, but not as a question. More of a that’s-interesting kind of way.

Then something weird happened. Zayn didn’t pull away, or say anything else, or loosen his arm. He just took the time to stare. His eyes trailed along Harry’s hair, down his forehead, and lingered on his green eyes for a few seconds, making Harry’s spine tingle. He then looked down again, passed his nose, to his lips. He seemed to linger there longer, and if it wasn’t for Perrie’s call for Zayn’s name, then Harry could’ve thought he was about to get kissed.

~*~

On Monday, Zayn was quiet. Which wasn’t anything that unusual, because he hasn’t always been loud or an obviously outspoken character, but on Monday he didn’t speak to anyone. He sat in his normal spots during class, but he kept more to himself than usual. Harry watched him of course, more so when neither Liam or Niall were with him. Zayn was either keeping his head down, his pencil scratching across his sketch pad, or looking out the window, his headphones cemented to his ears.

Harry knew Zayn and Perrie had split up, even before word had gotten around the school. And Harry didn’t know if every time Zayn looked at him, frowned, and looked away, was because he was mad, or confused. Or something else Harry couldn’t determine.

“Harry, Harry?” The voice was blurry in his head, but he ignored it until it began to shout, “Harry!”

He starlted out of his trance and looked around, catching eyes with Niall and Liam. Harry then realised it was Liam asking for him, and the shout came from Niall. 

“Are you alright?” Was the only thing Liam asked, his voice delicate towards him, weary.

Harry nodded, “‘m fine.”

“Then stop drifting off."

“Jus’ tired.” Harry mumbled back, and as if on cue, let out a yawn.

Niall yawned, too. “Yeah, you don’t look too well, mate. Get a coffee or somethin’.”

But Harry just shook his head, “honestly, I’m okay.”

He knew that was a lie, but they didn’t.

They both looked at him for a second, and even though Harry kept his eyes on the fork that was fiddling with his food, he couldn’t help but still feel the eyes of Niall and Liam on his blank face.

*~*

He should’ve joined them at the bowling alley. He should’ve just gone to take his mind off of things, make sure that he wasn’t alone with himself - with his thoughts.

 _“Ugh!”_ Harry slammed his fist down on the table, making his open workbook shift on his desk. He was attempting another study lesson, but his mind was clogged with the same person that kept him awake at night. _“Stupid_ fucking _boy.”_ He told himself.

 _"Stupid black hair, stupid brown eyes, stupid half smile, stupid drawings, stupid hands, stupid eyelashes, stupid jawline, stupid walk, stupid voice, stupid, stupid,_ stupid _!"_

Harry let out another grunt, this one leading him onto his bed, face down smothered into the pillows. He shook his head at himself. He’s never taken that much notice in a boy before, it was always girls. Always, always, girls. But this stupid little fucker always somehow crept into his head.

It used to be tolerable, Harry would just think that it was a phase, that - sure, he was attractive may as well admire that - was just a phase. But since being pressed up against the wall, his body against his own, his eyes staring directly into his, it was hard not to ignore the flutters in his stomach whenever his mind flashes back to that moment. Even though it was pure rage that was inside Zayn’s body, Harry couldn’t help but enjoy the fact that he was that close to him. And that’s what scared him.

_“I like him.”_

Horror and realisation rushed through his limp body. He felt his gut fall to his feet and the blood rush from his fingertips and toes.

 _“I_ can’t _like Zayn Malik.”_ He scoffed to himself and rolled onto his back, _“I can’t. He_ hates _me.”_

He was mumbling now, his hands covering his face, dragging them down and pulling his cheeks with him until he placed his hands on the top of his stomach.

But maybe this was just a stage. Harry wasn’t gay. He was probably just going through some hormonal changes, they shift your thoughts don’t they? And he really hadn’t had sex with a girl for a few weeks, maybe he was just having messed up emotions?

But as he asked himself these questions, he still wasn’t entirely sure those were the reasons. He’d definitely had vivid situations about Zayn… Some that made him cringe when he thought about them awake.

Harry stretched his arm out across the mattress, grabbing the phone that was on his bedside table, and automatically scrolled down to find a certain contact.

It took four rings until the Irish accent answered, “what ya want?”

Harry mocked, “oh, hello Niall. I’m good, thanks for asking.”

He could hear a chuckle on the other line, “cut the crap Harry, what’s goin’ on?”

“Just wanted to call up my good mate, ask him how he’s going.”

“Yeah, rightio. You just saw me at school.”

Harry frowned, “if this is a bad time then forget about it.”

There was a pause for a few seconds, then a sigh.

“Harry, you’re getting agitated. Seriously, what’s gotten into you lately?”

This time Harry sighed, “promise you won’t like… Laugh or judge me, okay?”

“Can’t promise that.”

“Niall.”

“Jokin’, ‘course I won’t. What is it?”

Harry stared at the ceiling, his eyes darting between every corner, subconsciously fiddling with his hair stressfully. He fidgeted on his bed, as though switching positions would be easier for him to spit this out.

He cleared his throat, and Niall told him to "just fuckin' get on with it, don't have all day" and Harry let go of his hair and slapped his hand on the thigh of his jeans as he let out another sigh, his head leaning back at the same time.

“Okay, well…” He didn’t know how to phrase the words, but he had to tell someone he was going crazy, “I’ve been… having… these - thoughts.”

Niall was waiting patiently on the other line and it took a while for him to reply. Harry started to wonder if he was actually listening.

“What kind of thoughts?”

“See… this is the weird part. I’ve been… thinking… about Zayn.” Harry spat out those last to words, instantly regretting them.

But Niall didn’t get what Harry was getting at.

“Well, uh that’s normal? He did get angry at you and shout at your face… I’d be thinking about him too if he-”

“No, Niall. Not like that. They’re, like… _thoughts_.”

Harry waited, and counted down the seconds until Niall realised what Harry meant.

“Oh.”

That’s all Harry heard for the next few seconds, but if felt like a hell load longer than that. He bit his lip and waited for Niall to say something else. But he didn’t, and Harry was left to become interested in a piece of string that strayed off his jeans. The silence was killing him.

“Niall?”

“Yeah.” His voice cracked, like he had just woken up. But it was more like he was shaken out of his shock.

“Am I…” Harry swallowed, “Am I gay?”

“Harry…”

“I’m serious… I’m really fucking confused, Niall.”

There was another pause. Harry started to get impatient. He’d wished he did this in person so he could see his friends’ expression. But you could almost hear Niall’s head shaking.

“I don’t.. I don’t think you are, to be honest.” There was a gap with his words, but he quickly responded with a different tone, a lighter one, “But so what if you are? Embrace it, bro.”

Harry smiled, like a weight was lifted, “you think it will just... come to me?”

“Yeah. I reckon,” Niall was responding faster this time, letting Harry’s heartbeat slow back to normal, “listen, come to a party this weekend… Zayn’s not gonna be there and there’s gonna be tonnes of chicks there, I reckon you should get a root or two. It’s been a while, maybe that’s what brought this on.”

Harry was grinning now, “that’s what I was thinking!”

The conversation didn’t last long after that, and neither did the rest of the week.

Instead of looking at Zayn and admiring or observing him, he was just thinking about the party. Thinking about what Niall said, thinking about getting with a girl, thinking about getting all Zayn thoughts out of his head as soon as possible. As though one girl was going to change what he thought about this boy.

~*~

It came around faster than usual, and Harry didn’t feel strife about getting haunted with Zayn’s face at all. He was loving it. He was excited.

That is, until _he_ arrived.

“I thought you said he wasn’t gonna be here!” Harry snarled in Niall’s ear, looking over at the tanned boy near the fire, warming up his hands in the night cold air.

He was wearing a jacket, but refused to roll the sleeves down to his hands, they were bunched up to his elbow, revealing all of his tattoos on his forearm. Harry reckons he could label each one on his arm... which sort of freaked himself out a little.

“Sorry!” Niall whispered back, “Louis told me he had other plans, he must’ve changed them.”

Harry let out a frustrated grunt, and turned to walk away, until Liam called for him. Harry’s head turned, which was in the same direction where Louis was. And Zayn.

Liam was waving him over. Harry shared glances with Zayn, and he wasn’t angry, or grumpy. But he wasn’t smiling, either.

Harry just shook his head at Liam and walked inside away from the coldness and away from the obvious.

It wasn’t long till he heard a few footsteps jog toward him. Harry stopped to make it easier for Liam to catch up.  
Although it wasn’t Liam.

“Hey,”

Harry wanted to die. His hand brushed Harry’s arm as a calm gesture, but also unknowingly making his whole skin tingle. No, no, _no_. This was bad, not Zayn. No.

Harry flashed him a quick smile and turned the other way, ready to bolt down the corridor and out onto the street. Which would've been possible if his hand didn't grab his bicep.

“Wait,” his voice was even more attractive when he spoke in a calm tone, when he spoke to him, “Harry, I know we got off on the wrong foot but-“

“Listen, I really gotta go…” Harry avoided his gaze and was so hesitant towards him, Zayn probably thought he was disabled.

“No, please, just… this will only take a few seconds.” Zayn’s eyes could’ve sent enough sparks through Harry’s body to turn on a lightbulb. Harry nodded in response - as that’s all what he really physically could do, "I know I might’ve scared you that night… you know, when I pushed you up against the wall,” he’d already had a few drinks, Harry could smell it on him now, after he regained his senses, “and I just.. really wanted to say sorry, you know? You’re friends with my mates and I didn’t want there to be a awkward tension between us, yeah?”

Harry frowned in confusion. He was apologising? And his grip was still on Harry’s arm, and he secretly didn’t want him to let go.

“Y-yeah, sure. S’all good.”

Zayn smiled and let go of Harry’s arm. Harry felt the coldness return, and only then realised how warm Zayn had made him by one simple touch.

“Well, uh… Guess I should let you go, since you were busy.” Zayn said. Taking a step back.

“Yeah, right.” Harry flashed him an awkward smile and walked off, but not really knowing where to go. The party hadn’t started yet, so there weren’t many people here. So he just went to the bathroom.

It was there, when he had to regain his loss of breath and sort his head out.

Harry could’ve hit his head on the tiled wall. So he did.

“What.” _bang_ “The.” _bang_ “Fuck.”

Two slams against the wall was all it took for Harry’s vision to go blurry for a few seconds, but as soon as he regained his awareness, he wanted to lose it again.

Zayn’s probably out there now wondering why Harry was so weird.

He just wanted to apologise for God’s sake, and why did he shiver when Zayn touched him? He wasn’t even cold, his hand actually warmed up his whole body.

Harry could’ve punched a wall… But he didn’t do that.

Instead he just lent up against the wall and closed his eyes as he breathed in the vanilla aroma that floated around the room. It might have been a scented candle, but Harry wasn’t paying much attention.

He didn’t even know how long he was in there, but it must’ve been a while because Liam was looking for him, Harry could hear his name being called over the now loud music.

Then, there were two knocks on the door. When Harry didn’t answer, Liam opened it anyway and sighed with relief when he saw Harry standing there.

“Is this where you’ve been? In the bathroom?” Liam asked sceptically, giving Harry a brief once-over.

“Yeah… I just needed to, uh-” Harry scratched the back of his head unsure.

“Okay, Harry. Let’s, uh,” Liam thankfully interrupted, since Harry didn’t really know what he was supposed to say, “let’s go find yourself a girl yeah?”

Harry was hesitant, and Liam noticed straight away. But Harry didn’t want Liam questioning if he was feeling okay or not, so he plastered a grin on his face and nodded.

Harry’s wrist was grabbed by Liam’s strong hand briefly, leading him through the now crowded group of people that weren’t there a few minutes ago. How long was he in there for?

“Harry, this is Mel.” Liam introduced the dark skinned girl, her eyes brighter than her white teeth. She flashed Harry a smile and he gave her one back, showing his award-winning dimple once again.

“Hi, Mel.” He greeted casually, and she mouthed a small hi back. She probably said the word, but it was impossible to hear any quiet voices on top of the loud music.

“It’s really loud here…” She hinted, smirking up at Harry, and that was when he noticed that Liam had left them alone, “did you wanna get a room to ourselves? To… talk?”

Her voice was way too suggestive for her proposal to be all about ‘talking’. Before he responded, Harry searched the room - his eyes automatically rested on Zayn. Noticing this, he nodded towards the nice looking girl immediately. He couldn’t stand filling his mind with Zayn thoughts right now, there’s no way he’d be spending the night wondering if he was going to glance at him too, he’d feel like a twelve-year-old girl.

So he took Mel’s hand and led her towards the nearest bedroom, making sure to close the door behind them once they were in.

Mel didn’t hesitate. As soon as Harry turned to face her, Mel’s lips attacked Harry’s neck.

She kissed down passed his jawline, then lingered on a soft spot of his skin, letting Harry’s head roll back and his hands wrapped around her waist.

He let her scent fill his nose, the kind of perfume that wasn’t too strong, but stayed with you once you took one whiff. It smelled like strawberries and rose petals, and Harry couldn’t get enough of it.

 _”See,”_ Harry told himself, _”I’m not gay.”_

He seemed so sure of himself, just because he was kissing a girl and liking her scent.

Harry took the force now, their bodies already grinding together. He picked her up, taking the breath out of Mel, and placed her down on the bed, his body gently pressed on top of hers almost instantly.

They continued to make out, her hands in his hair and Harry’s hand on the lower section of her back.

It surprised Harry, knowing that he was so into it that he didn’t even hear the door opening.

“Oh.. Uh,”

Harry looked up from the girl, and gazed his eyes towards the doorway.

Zayn stood there, with an expression on his face that Harry could hardly comprehend. It wasn’t shock, or apologetic… He almost looked _hurt_.

“Sorry.” He blurted out, his eyes falling to his feet as he quickly shut the door.

And even though he wasn’t there anymore, Harry still looked at that direction, his eyebrows pulled down, confused.

And even when Mel touched his face and brought him towards her, he leaned away.

“Sorry, Mel…” Harry rolled off the bed and walked towards the door, his mind a whole lot jumbled than before.

——-~**~——-


	3. Zayn's P.O.V

Pushing passed the people in the crowded room was a lot harder than what Zayn had ever thought it would be. There were girls trying to grab his arm, introducing themselves even though it was bluntly obvious that he wasn’t the slightest bit interested. But once he got through the door and out in the fresh air, Zayn took the time to take a breather.

He didn’t even know what thoughts were running carelessly through his mind, the emotions he was feeling were alien to him, and the fact that he had to leave a party because of one boy really messed with his head. Why did he even leave? Because he walked in on Harry kissing someone? Because he walked in on Harry kissing a _girl_?

Zayn shook his head at himself and sat down on one of the steps outside the house, his elbows rested on his knees and his face in his hands. He continued to shake his head, struggling to pinpoint what exactly triggered the unnamed emotion that suddenly rushed through him.

The first time Zayn had met Harry, it was when he was kissing his girlfriend. Maybe that’s why he felt the need to escape - because it brought up bad memories.

The incident sliced through Zayn’s mind. The initial feeling as soon as he saw the sight - his heart falling to his stomach - the urge to kill the boy that had his hands wrapped around his girlfriend’s skinny little waist.

Then he remembered attacking Harry, forcing him up against the wall - scanning his face and realising something Zayn still couldn’t decipher - then regretting how much he scared the poor boy.

From then on, he noticed Harry in his classes, around school. He wasn’t a loud boy, maybe that’s why he hadn’t really seen him around before. And Zayn couldn’t really focus on keeping an eye on him anyway, since he was still dealing with heart break and other problems - like unanswered questions.

But whenever he did look at Harry, it was weird. Zayn’d get this funny feeling down in his stomach, which made him frown every time it happened. Harry would sometimes catch him staring at him, and catch him frowning then looking away, but Zayn thinks that Harry didn’t mind it. Or if he did - he didn’t say anything.

He did the right thing to apologise to Harry for pinning him up against the wall and threatening him. So why did he feel like Harry needed to apologise for Zayn walking in on him?

It was Zayn’s fault anyway, he was the one who needed to make a phone call, he was the one that didn’t knock before entering.

And as Zayn sat there, he couldn’t help but wonder why exactly he was thinking about Harry. What was so special about him anyway? He had green eyes - Zayn didn’t even like green eyes. And he always smiled when someone spoke to him, there was always a little smirk. But not when Zayn spoke to him, that was a different look. And he had a dimple, sometimes two - which made Zayn’s stomach trigger that feeling again.

And Zayn had now grown to hate that feeling. He thought it was bad, he thought he was going to throw up every time he felt it. It didn’t worry him all too much, though. Maybe this was just some silly hormonal phase.

Zayn eventually let out a sigh - the alcohol and atmosphere had obviously gotten to his head - and stood up. He didn’t even say good-bye to Liam, Niall or Louis. He just got into his car and left.

The next time Zayn saw Harry was a Monday. The rain poured hard, and it was almost impossible to hear anything as hail started to fall on the roof. He came late to class, as always. It wasn’t Zayn’s fault, he was just horrible with time, and often fell asleep most days or simply decided it would be best to get to class at the last minute.

Harry was sitting in his usual spot, up the front to the left. Zayn felt eyes on him as soon as he entered, but he didn’t look at anyone - not even Harry. He made his way down to the back row, and took one glance at him just as he looked back up and flashed him a smile. He couldn’t even smile back, Zayn didn’t know what was wrong with himself.

It wasn’t like he was still mourning over losing Perrie - if he was honest; he was over that days ago. No, he doesn’t know why he feels the need to sleep longer than usual, or to smoke double the amount of cigarettes, or even to skip meals.

He doesn’t know, but in a way, he does. And he can only really blame one person.

And that person was sitting in the front row of the classroom, curls bouncing every time he changed his position in the uncomfortable chairs, his eager ears pricking up as soon as the teacher began to talk.

Zayn could ask him why he felt this way about him. But how would Harry know? It was something for Zayn to figure out himself, something for him to discover.

In the back of his mind, he knew. But it was pushed so far back that he wasn’t even sure if he could reach that part of his mind anymore.

Recess came around soon enough, and as Louis joined him on their regular table, he questioned Zayn’s behaviour straight away.

“What’s up, sour puss?” He teased, nudging his arm.

“Nothin’” Zayn mumbled back, keeping his eyes on the canteen food that he never really ate anyway.

Louis scoffed, “you still upset about that blondie? You need to let it go, mate.”

Zayn’s eyebrows pressed together, and he wasn’t sure what he was madder about. Why he felt this way, or what he even felt.

“No, it’s…” He shook his head and sighed, “it’s not that.”

“Zayn,” Louis was cautious now, and turned so he was facing his friend, his hand rested on his back, “what’s the matter buddy?”

Zayn’s eyes flickered up across the cafeteria, only to see Harry already looking at him. He avoided his gaze straight away, but Louis already noticed.

“It’s curly?” He asked, surprised, “what’d he do now?”

“He didn’t _do_ anything.” Zayn told him bluntly. And Louis looked at him, waiting for him to continue, “at the party… I needed to make a phone call, so I went into one of the bedrooms and saw,” Zayn swallowed and looked down at his hands, “Harry making out with a girl on the bed.”

The unanswered question that bubbled through his mind and drove him crazy was why this mattered so much to him. Harry was a teenage boy - a straight teenage boy - he’s supposed to be hooking up with girls at parties. This shouldn’t bug him. But it does.

Zayn waited for a response from Louis, but there was only silence. He looked up to meet his eyes, and they returned nothing but confusion.

“Why should that put you in a bad mood?”

Zayn grunted in frustration and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know! That’s the problem!”

There was silence again from Louis for a while as the hand on Zayn’s back became more defined. Louis stroked his t-shirt calmly, preparing him for what he was about to say next. He waited until Zayn looked at him.

“Zayn, I -” his eyes glanced at Harry, then back to Zayn, “I think you like him.”

~*~

When Harry smiles, it’s like all the girls around him buzz - like they’re a swarm of mosquitos, just waiting to take a bite and suck out whatever he had to give. He was like a magnet, and without a doubt, could catch any girl single-handedly.

But of course, he wasn’t that type of guy to just pick up twelve girls at once. He was the type of boy who doesn’t like to objectify women, of course he was. He was nice, grateful and giving, but never asked for anything in return. He was the perfect student, friend and son. And of-fucking-course everyone loved him.

Zayn didn’t know why or what it was about Harry that made him so mad whenever he looked at him. Maybe it was what Louis said; and Zayn was just frowning because he was trying so hard to make sure his friend’s assumption wasn’t true. After Louis told Zayn that he may like Harry, Zayn did what he thought would be right and punched him straight in the arm. Louis stayed quiet for the rest of lunch.

 _“I can’t be gay,”_ Zayn told himself as he walked home that night, his mind still a blur, _“I like girls, I_ had _a girlfriend. And this is just one boy, someone I didn’t even know until a few weeks back… Whatever the fuck it is, it’s just a phase.”_

His voice was a low growl now, and as he opened up his door to an empty home, he couldn’t help but second guess that last part of his reoccurring thoughts. But Zayn shook it off, he didn’t like this feeling from the start, and he doesn’t think anything’s going to change that.

He collapsed on the couch, his right arm automatically fitting into the cushions of the armrest comfortably as his legs sprawled out on the low wooden coffee table in front of him.

Zayn flicked through the channels, and ironically enough, the segment on the news broadcasting show was based on the topic of "legalising gay rights".

“Fuck it.” Zayn mumbled, shutting off the television and pulling himself up from the now very uncomfortable couch, and walked outside.

The cigarettes in his pocket were cheap ones, since he didn’t have a stable job to get enough income for better ones. But they did the job. With each inhale, Zayn felt calmer. He breathed out slowly, watching it breeze out of his mouth and disappear into the evening air.

So what if he liked boys? So what if he liked _a_ boy? It’s not like it’s abnormal in any way, there’s gay couples more and more these days-

 _”We’re not going to be a couple.”_ Zayn reminded himself, the frustration building up in his head again, _”We’re not going to_ ever _be a couple, because Harry Styles likes_ girls _”_

He wanted to laugh at himself. Laugh at the way he felt when he walked in on Harry and that girl - how his heart completely dropped to the floor, and how he froze there for a while until Harry’s face looked up at him, his angelic green eyes staring - confused.

“It shouldn’t _fucking_ be this hard!” Zayn groaned to himself, kicking a nearby step in his backyard. “I hate this.” He said, quieter this time. “Shouldn’t be this hard.”

It took a while for Zayn to readjust to his normal mindset, but once he did, his mind told him to do what Zayn seemed to love the most. Sleep.

~*~

School was now Zayn’s worse nightmare, this boy was ruining everything for him. But the fact that he doesn’t know why is what makes him storm down the hallway on the way to class, the fact that, for once, he was early. And he was the one watching Harry enter as Zayn sat down.

But Zayn couldn’t watch for long, Harry smiled at him, and that goddam fucking feeling returned. So Zayn just went back to his sketch book and scribbled things like the tattoos he wanted to get when he was older.

Class started, and just as Zayn began to feel proud of himself for staying focused on the teacher and not taking sneaky glances to Harry, rage bubbled through him when the teacher announced the new topic they’d be studying.

“Identity and belonging,” she projected, “we’ll be discussing what makes us who we are, if it is difficult to belong. Our values, beliefs, sexual preferences-“

Zayn shuddered.

“-if being different can make us outliers to others-“

 _”You’re different.”_ Zayn’s head whispered to himself, _”you’re sexual preference is boys…”_

He shut it out instantly, but it never left. His thoughts were like an avalanche, like they just needed to cave through to him - and it drove over the edge.

“Ugh!” He grunted, making the teacher stop and the rest of the classmates look back at him- including Harry.  
He couldn’t deal with his worried gaze right now, Zayn picked up his stuff and stormed out of the classroom - ignoring the calls from the teacher.

Zayn found a little corner around the building, and against the brick wall, Zayn sat down against it, his hands instantly finding his head.

He stayed like that for a while, as tears began to trigger out the sides of his eyes. He felt one escape and fall down his cheek, but he didn’t wipe it away.

The air seemed so much colder sitting down on the pavement - but that’s not what bothered him. There was a smell that floated down to reach him, but Zayn didn’t know what it was - that didn’t bother him, either.

What bothered him was the running footsteps he could hear coming towards him, knowing that someone had come to look for him.

When the footsteps were now insanely close, they stopped. Zayn could hear them breathing. And when he looked up, he couldn’t say he was surprised to find Harry standing there.

Zayn wiped at his eyes furiously, sniffing back the tears and making sure there wasn’t any sign of weakness marked on his face.

He could hear him coming closer.

“You alright?”

His voice was huskier than normal, and Zayn didn’t know whether it was the cold air, or if Harry’s voice sometimes goes lower when he’s out of breath.

Zayn didn’t answer him, he just continued to look straight forward, and tried not to pay much attention to the body that now sat next to him beside the wall.

Harry didn’t take his eyes off of him, and Zayn knew it was just so he could get him to talk. And if that was his plan - it worked.

“Why are you here?”

It wasn’t the response Harry expected, but he took it in his stride anyway. Zayn really wasn’t in the mood to sugar-coat what he was feeling.

“Well, I…” He cleared his throat, his hand made a fist as he held it up to his own mouth and he let out a coughing sound, “I didn’t think it’d be a good idea to let you go off on your own when you’re angry.” He shrugged, “I don’t know… It could’ve been dangerous.”

“Well I’m fine.” Zayn snapped back. He didn’t mean to be so grumpy, but in a way, he really really did.

“Yeah, that’s why you’ve been avoiding me and storming out of classrooms.”

Zayn paused for a while, but when he didn’t have anything to say, he just sighed.

There was a faint silence for a while, but it wasn’t awkward - like it would’ve been if it was anyone else other than Harry. And although Zayn hated to admit it, this curly-headed, annoying, attractive boy, was slowly making him more comfortable and calm the longer he sat beside him.

“I’m sorry if I made you upset.”

Harry’s voice was a whisper now, his eyes transfixed on his playing fingers that rested on top of his cross-legged lap. He looked like a little school kid - so adorable, even to Zayn’s eyes.

And for once, Zayn knew what the feeling in the pit of his stomach was at this moment. Guilt.

He let out a breathless, shaky laugh and reassured him. “You didn’t, Harry.”

This time, Harry’s big green eyes gazed up at him, and when Zayn met them, this breath fell short. But he didn’t feel anger at all.

“So… I have nothing to do with-” he hesitated, adjusted his position so his knees were up and his arms locked around them, and continued,” -any of this?”

 _Yes_. “No, ‘course not.”

Maybe it was Zayn’s tone of voice that gave it away. Or maybe it was the lack of eye contact. Or maybe, it was the fact that his unmistakable sigh after that sentence could be noticed from a mile away.

Whatever it was, it made Harry not believe a word of what Zayn said.

There was thick silence for a while. Until Harry shifted, his whole body turning to face Zayn - who still remained frozen.

His voice was quieter than before, his eyes innocent. “Zayn, what did I do wrong?”

 _Oh, nothing._ Zayn thought to himself sarcastically. _You’ve just managed to flip everything upside down and made me re-evaluate everything I’ve ever done in my life, you’ve also managed to make me think that who I am isn’t really true, and have complicated my mind into thinking that my preferences have been completely wrong. But, Harry, that’s okay, you’ve got absolutely nothing to do with my emotions, and I’m utterly fine._

“It’s got nothing to do with you, Harry.” Zayn told him instead, “let’s just… Forget about this, okay? Can you do that?”

Harry nodded frantically.

“Okay.” Zayn breathed, and Harry was already up in a split second, his hand reaching out - palm up, waiting for Zayn to take it.

He didn’t want to be a complete bastard towards Harry. Since he did run after him and sat down with him to make sure he was okay - so Zayn took his hand, but made sure they stopped touching as soon as Zayn was on his own soles.

“Thanks.” He spoke silently, only audible enough for him to hear.

Harry flashed him a smile, and Zayn couldn’t help but notice the flicker of some sort if misplaced emotion in Harry’s eyes.

——~**~——


	4. Harry's P.O.V

“But he’s so _cold_  towards me.”

Harry’s voice was the minimal sound in the room, compared to Niall and Liam’s shouts and boo’s coming from the video game they were competing each other in. Harry sat on Liam’s bed, his back against the wall with his legs stretched out, his hands fiddling with the phone he’s dropped countless of times. It wasn’t the best time to express what he was feeling, but when something chews you up for 3 weeks straight, it’s bound to get spit out sooner or later.

“And it wasn’t even like I was an asshole to him in the first place, you know?” He continued, talking to himself rather than the occasional ‘mm’ and ‘yeah’s’ from the two boys, “All I did was make sure he was okay, like yeah, I didn’t really accepted his apology with a wide smile and a hug, but he’s been acting so stubborn and hostile lately. Like what did I even do? Why does he hate me?”

After that, the game was turned off. Liam and Niall placed their controllers down and span around to face the distressed boy. The look on both their faces was something new, nothing Harry’s ever seen on them before, which kind of scared Harry.

“Look,” Liam started, clasping his hands together briefly, “obviously… You know, Zayn… He sometimes doesn’t really have a positive attitude and maybe he’s just-”

“He’s a hormonal bitch.”

Liam and Harry glared at Niall, and Liam shoved his shoulder. “What?” He asked, defending himself, “all I’m sayin’ is Harry shouldn’t take Zayn’s moody ways personal. He’s a real shit sometimes. And I can say that ‘cause he’s my friend.”

He turned to look at Liam, “so don’t hurt me.” Liam looked at him for a while, until his hand raised up and slapped Niall across the face.

“So you don’t think he hates me?” Harry questioned Niall, needing to hear it out loud.

Niall hadn't spoken to Harry about his questioned sexuality since after that first phonecall where Harry had asked him about it. He didn't think anything of it, Harry just thought it was because Niall didn't believe it was an issue.

“Nah,” he said definitely, then paused. “Well, don’t think so. Unless you made him angry or somethin’…”

“I don’t know why he’s so distant from me, like ever since that party he’s been avoiding me. He even left early because of me- I’m pretty sure.”

“Wait-” Liam spoke up, raising his hand to tell Harry to stop, “ _you’re_  the guy?”

Harry stared back at him, giving him nothing but confused eyes in response. Niall clicked into some realisation and couldn’t hold back his sudden cackle of complete laughter. Even Liam stifled a laugh.

“What? What guy?” Harry was alert now, he sat at the edge of the bed, leaning forwards, eyes and ears keen, “what guy am I?”

“Well,” Liam started, muffling his chuckle, “two days ago, Niall, Louis and I all had a gathering at Louis' house, and he had a lot to drink, like a lot a lot, and-"

“Remember that fuckin' story he told us about his grandma?” Niall grinned, and collapsed into hysterics at the story he remembered.

Liam rolled his eyes with a smile, and returned to Harry, “he was telling us that Zayn was acting weird ever since you hooked up with his girlfriend and Louis just thought it was because they broke up or whatever, but after the party, Louis spoke with him and he said that he walked in on a guy and a girl kissing, and that’s what made him leave.”

Harry waited for more, but Liam stopped talking. His eyes glanced between the two boys but they just looked back at him.

When Harry didn’t say anything, Niall did. " _You’re_  the guy!”

“Yeah…” Harry hesitated, “so?”

“So,” Liam emphasised, “he was upset because you were kissing someone else!” He turned to Niall, “oh, my God, it makes so much sense now.”

“What?” Harry asked again, but was ignored by the whispers of the other boys, “What, guys!?”

They both looked at him, hesitant.

“Nothing.” Niall smiled. Harry wanted to hit them both.

For the next few days, all Harry thought about was what his two friends told him. Like why was Zayn upset because he walked in on Harry kissing a girl? Was the girl somebody that Zayn had an eye on? But then why didn’t Liam just _say_  that?

 " _He was upset because you were kissing someone else”_

 The sound of Liam’s voice echoed through Harry’s mind endlessly. Kissing someone else? Someone _else_?

“What the fuck does that mean!”

A pillow was tossed to the other side of his room. His back now lent on nothing but hard wood from the head of his bed. The lights were off, he was supposed to be sleeping - but there was a fat chance of that happening.

The next day at school, Harry was determined to find out what this boy’s deal was. A few weeks ago, Harry was wanting to get to know Zayn. Now he wants to find out a way to un-know him.

There he was, his locker door open, covering his face. The only parts of his body visible was the bottom of his torso and his legs and feet. And the bare arm that was lazily holding the top of the locker door. Harry took in a deep breath, and his feet started to pace down the corridor. His backpack started to bounce off his ass with each stride, and he was now only meters away. He was going to ask him why he really left the party early, and why he really didn’t like him - straight up. He _was_ going to ask him all these questions, and if he didn’t answer them truthfully, he’ll-

“Ah!” The sudden pull of his jumper caught him off-guard, and the sound that escaped his mouth was quickly muffled by a hand that pulled him into an empty classroom. But before Harry could panic, a familiar voice filled the room.

“What are you doing? Do you want him to _demolish_  you?” The look in Louis’ eyes were serious, something that looked misplaced on his face, since Harry’s never seen the bubbly guy somewhat serious before.

“I need some answers!” Harry snapped back, getting impatient. He was in the zone, and Zayn was going to leave soon, he might not get another chance to corner him.

“Not now!”

“Yeah? Why not?”

There was a pause from Louis, until his voice softened, “he’s not in a great mood at the moment.”

Harry scoffed, “he’s always not in a great mood.”

“Hey,” Louis nudged him, getting defensive for his friend, “it’s just been a confusing… time for him. S’all.” He shrugged, and suddenly started to avoid eye contact.

“A confusing time for _him_?” Harry’s head leaned forwards for emphasis on the last word, his eyebrows raised, “is that why he’s been so bi-polar around me? I’d say I’m more confused than him - a shit load more than him, I’m-“

“Harry,” he interrupted, his voice calm - a contrast to Harry’s distressed tone, “how about we talk about this somewhere else, yeah? Seems like you need to get a lot off your chest.”

“I need to talk to _Zayn_. Not _you_.” Harry told him sourly, trying to crane his neck around the doorway to see if Zayn was still standing there.

“Harry,” Louis repeated, and Harry didn’t realise until Louis squeezed his shoulder than he had been resting his hand there, “I’ll take you out to lunch, yeah? We can talk - I’ll listen. Sound good?”

Harry looked at Louis for a while, his eyes unknowingly squinting, as though he didn’t trust him enough to be taken out. They’ve never really talked, but Harry thinks that if Louis got through to the difficult and almighty Zayn, then he must be okay.

Harry nodded, “We’ll leave at twelve.”

~*~

Lunch was weird. It was filled with sceptical looks and suspicious questions. There wasn’t much eye contact, because every time Harry tried to look at him, Louis would return an inspecting gaze back at him. His eyes squinted slightly, his forearms rested on the table as his body tended to lean forwards, as though that would give him more of an idea into what Harry was thinking. Harry just tried to eat his hot chips casually, although that was quite difficult since Louis was making him feel awfully awkward. He picked up another chips, but froze before he placed it in his mouth. He looked at Louis, who was still staring intently into his soul.

“Okay,” Harry said, dropping his chip back into the bowl and crossing his arms, “What’s your deal?”

Louis smirked, and leaned back into his chair, “what do you mean?”

“Oh, c’mon.” Harry frowned, “you’ve been staring at me like a complete creep the whole time we’ve been sitting down. What’s with that? Are you always like this?”

Louis just smiled devilishly, “yes.”

Harry rolled his eyes, followed by a slight shake of the head. He started to wonder why he ever said yes to this lunch date anyway. But he thought he may as well make the most of it, and picked up another chip to start eating again.

“Are you gay?”

Harry choked.

He clenched his throat and coughed and gagged until the chewed potato found its right way down and swallowed.

He looked up at Louis, wide-eyed, “what?”

Louis seemed to be completely oblivious to Harry’s near-death experience and shrugged calmly, “are you?”

“No!” Harry’s voice raised an octave. And Louis’ eyebrows raised, too. “Well I - I guess not… I haven’t really, uh… Thought about it.”

A few more chips went in Harry’s mouth, but this time he prepared himself for another unexpected question.

“It’s okay if you are, you know.” Louis told him, swishing the coke he had around in the glass, “I have a friend who I think might be gay, I think you might know him. He goes by the name-“

“That’s a bit personal, Louis, don’t you think?”

He shrugged again, and took a sip of his drink before responding. “Jus’ sayin’, I wouldn’t think of you any different if you were.”

Harry sat in silence for a few minutes. The low mumbles from the other customers floated around the room, and the clashing of ceramic plates and stainless steel cutlery could also be heard in the kitchen on the other side of the small cafe. The noise was comforting, though. Or maybe it wasn’t the noise, maybe Harry was just comfortable. He did settle in his seat once Louis finally began to start a conversation - even though it did almost make Harry choke to death.

“But you have thought about it, right?” Louis began again, and spoke as though this was a normal everyday conversation for him, “you have experienced things with another fella, haven’t you?”

Harry was taken aback, but didn’t say anything. He just pressed his eyebrows together slightly and shook his head.

“Hm,” Louis added thoughtfully, and snagged a couple of chips.

“Have you?”

“Of course,” Louis replied almost automatically, as though he was expecting that question. “We all have to at some point. For me, I didn’t like it, I prefer girls. But man, c’mon. You have to try it to see if you like it. Or else you’ll never know.”

This was such an odd topic for Harry. But he didn’t feel weird discussing it, Louis made everything seem so much more comfortable. Harry was beginning to see why Zayn and the other boys liked this kid.

“So, you’re saying I should kiss… a boy?” Harry asked him hesitantly, making sure nobody was around. He didn’t even know _why_  he was so secretive about things like this.

“Yes!” Louis exclaimed, “now you’re on the right track!”

Harry smiled, “so who’s the boy that you might think is gay?”

He tried to ask the question as non-suggestive as possible, but his attempt failed and fell since Louis looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“So _now_  you’re interested.” He replied cheekily, smirking.

And all Harry could really do was shrug, “well I may as well give it a shot.”

Louis looked at him for a while, and the gleam in his eye almost stated that he was proud of himself in some way. He leant back in his chair and changed his position, his left foot leant underneath his right thigh and his hands folded over his tummy.

“Okay, this is where it gets interesting.” He started, looking at Harry intently again, just like the start of lunch, “are you ready to hear my theory?”

For a second, Harry thought that Louis was going completely off track and started talking about something different. But he nodded anyway.

“I think you might have noticed this already, or maybe not, I don’t know how smart your brain is yet. But somebody in your class has been acting a little strange lately, yes?” It didn’t take long for Harry to register who Louis was talking about.

“Zayn.”

“Uh huh,” Louis certified, “and I know for a fact that whenever he gets in these moods, it’s because he’s been thinking _really_  hard about something. Or someone. And I’ve done a bit of research, and observed the absolute shit out him, and I’ve come to a conclusion.”

“Which is?” Harry asked him, sceptical. A million thoughts thrashed around in his mind, but none of them were anywhere near as close to what Louis said next. He looked at him from across the table and smiled.

“Zayn wishes it was you and him on that bed.”

~*~

Sleep deprivation was something that Harry had grown used to. The maximum of one hour of sleep - maybe two, depending whether it was raining or not - wasn’t doing Harry any favours. But instead of being mad now, after a few weeks, he’d gotten tired of using his energy on getting frustrated. He was laughing now, sometimes hysterical, and he knew people thought he was going crazy, but he didn’t care. Now, he was just fed up. He just wanted to clear the air, find out the truth, get some answers. And today was the day.

Entering school, he was energised. He didn’t know whether it was the coffee he drank this morning - or the fire and determination in his brain, the sparking ideas on how he’s going to confront Zayn replaced the thoughts of confusion and frustration. It was safe to say Harry was excited. He stormed down the corridor, spotting his target on the other side at his locker. But this time, nobody was going to stop him - not even Louis. Without taking in a deep breath to prepare himself, he stood next to him, leaning up against the locker cooly.

“Hello, Zayn.” Harry greeted, a dramatic smile appeared on his face.

Zayn just looked at him. And nodded once.

“Can you help me with something?” His locker closed shut as Zayn waited for Harry to continue, “I need some answers.”

Zayn sighed and looked around, impatient. “Sure.”

“I just need to know…” Harry cleared his throat, he was losing confidence now, “straight up. Do you - uh, do you… hate… me?”

Zayn swung his backpack strap over his left shoulder and rolled his eyes, “No.”

His brutal tone sliced through Harry’s chest, why was he so cold?

“Then why does it seem like you do!”

Zayn seemed oblivious to Harry’s sudden shift of emotion. And shrugged.

“Oh, come on!” Harry waved his arms around in front of his body. That was definitely the coffee, “Give me a proper answer, _please_.”

“Give me one first,” he told him, his jaw clenched, “why does it mean so much to you?”

For a second, Harry swore his heart stopped. But when it gained rhythm again, he swallowed harshly.

“I guess I…” He scratched the back of his head, unsure, “I just wanted to—”

“Is it because you can’t stand the thought of someone disliking you?” He interrupted, his voice suddenly aggressive, “because you have to _please_  everyone?”

Harry was startled. Is that why he doesn’t like him? “No, I…”

“I have to go.” He told him, his voice a mumble again. He turned to walk away, he was going to leave him again without getting any answers.

 _”You have to try it to see if you like it. Or else you’ll never know.”_  

Louis’ voice repeated that sentence in Harry’s mind. It was like his own driving ambition, pushing him along, almost telling him what to do. So before he left, Harry took control.

“Wait, Zayn.” His voice was quieter than what he’d hoped, but Zayn seemed to hear it, and he followed his instructions.

“What.” Zayn replied, his eyes darting through Harry’s, almost making him shiver.

Harry took a step forwards, “you think everyone likes me, yeah?”

“Majority.”

Another step, “so, do you?”

He was closer now, and Zayn was aware, but he didn’t flinch away.

“Do you like me, Zayn?”

He didn’t even attempt to move away, his body was frozen and Harry could tell that his chest was tight. Sleep deprivation might have grown used to Harry, but it definitely made him do things that he’d never normally do.

Zayn swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down and Harry tried his best to keep his cool.

“I… Don’t know.” Zayn stuttered, and for a second, Harry was flattered that he’d had this effect on him.

_”Or else you’ll never know.”_

Harry sucked up all the confidence he had, he didn’t know whether it was because of the lack of sleep, or the coffee, but it took everything he had to take one more step and lean in. Harry’s mouth was on Zayn’s. And if Harry was honest with himself, he was more surprised that Zayn didn’t move away, even though there was a sudden gasp as soon as it happened - Zayn was quick to relax and kiss him back.

It was brief, and Harry’s mind was all a big blur during it. It started off soft, just brushing lips together and breathing in each others scent, but then Harry’s tongue found Zayn’s and he tasted something like a mixture of cigarettes and flavoured gum.

It could’ve lasted a lot longer, - Harry thinks - if it wasn’t for his careless hand that brushed against Zayn’s. It was almost like a switch, as though Zayn didn’t have a clue that it was Harry’s lips on top of his own, and as soon as their hands brushed together, he suddenly realised.

Harry felt a sturdy hand on his chest as it pushed him backwards abruptly. His mind was still fuzzy, still trying to comprehend what he actually did - he kissed him. He kissed _Zayn_. And he didn’t pull back. Until now.

When Harry looked back up at him, it wasn’t hard to see how furious he was. He was also confused, his eyebrows pulled over his eyes as they scanned Harry’s body up and down in disbelief.

“What the fuck?” He spat, his hand dragged across his mouth in disgust.

He didn’t wait for Harry’s answer, he turned quickly away from him and strode - nearly breaking into a sprint - out the door.

“Zayn!” Harry tried to call him back, but he knew there was no use. He began to ran after him, but once Harry was out the door, Zayn was already crossing the road. He called out again, but he’d already gone.

“Thanks a fuck load, Louis.” He mumbled to himself sarcastically, letting his face that had turned to despair fall into his hands and groaned again, “fuck.”

——~**~——


	5. Zayn's P.O.V

He didn’t walk very far, as soon as he heard Harry’s voice stop calling his name, Zayn’s footsteps took him around the corner and left him there. The first reaction Zayn has, to anything he’s unsure of, is defensive and revolting. He pushes people away, it’s what he’s known to do. 

The only reason why Zayn hasn’t pushed Louis away is because Louis is so fucking persistent and clingy, Zayn would have to leave him at Mexico - but even then, Louis would probably find his way back.

The bookstore was the first shop to his left, and he didn’t know where else to go, so he escaped there. The librarian greeted him, but Zayn was in absolute no mood to converse with anybody. He just wanted to sit down and mourn. Mourn over the loss of a perfect opportunity.

He kissed him. _Harry_  kissed _him_. Where did that even come from? Did Harry have the same feelings Zayn had? The same urges? Did Harry know what Zayn felt? What’s he thinking now after he was pushed off? That Zayn doesn’t like him anymore?

He took the chair that was closest to him and sat down in a slouch. He shouldn’t have pushed him off, he shouldn’t have been scared and retaliated. Now he’s going to have to apologise. _Again_. And now Harry’s going to really think Zayn hates him, and it’s going to be awkward. Why didn’t the fucker warn him when he was about to kiss him? 

And why did he have to make Zayn aware about what he was doing?

“Sir? Are you okay?”

Zayn looked up from his position to the old librarian that had greeted him before. She looked down on him, worried. Her glasses started to slip off her nose and she pushed it back lightly before Zayn replied.

“Yeah, fine thanks.”

He must have looked a lot more terrible than he felt. He just hoped that Harry wasn’t following - he couldn’t stand the thought of Harry seeing him here, distressed and sad.

“You sure? All the colours been drained out of your face and your shaking.” She pointed out, and Zayn tried to stop it but his limbs wouldn’t stop shuddering. What was _wrong_  with him? “Do you need a water or something, darling? I’ll get you one.”

She turned around and was out of sight before Zayn could respond. He tried lengthening out his position, but the tremors were still there. He convinced himself it was the cold weather.

Zayn took the cup of water from the frail hand carefully and said thank you before taking a sip. It calmed him down a little, but it was his head that needed a tone down.

His big, green eyes - looking at him through his eyelashes, that same distance away like that night Zayn had him pinned up against the wall. Those goddam lips, that Zayn had glanced at for the tiniest second - crashing down on top of his own as though they read his mind. His careful mouth - hesitant at first but quickly adjusting and settling into the groove of his own, and smoothing against it, the movement that made his stomach whirl. Those hands - and the one that—

“Get out of my head!” Zayn shouted at himself, not meaning for it to be out loud. The librarian glanced over at him and he shot her an apologetic look before taking another sip.

He was going to kill that boy, he swore to God. You can’t just _kiss_  somebody without any warning and make their mind go into a whirlwind and expect everything to be okay. 

What if it had escalated? What if Zayn kissed back - well, he did - but _really_  kissed back? Would Harry be the first to pull away and laugh at him? What if it was a dare? What if it was just so he could see what he’d do? To see if he was gay or not?

Zayn shook his head again, nothing’s going to help him if all he does is think about it. He needs him out of his mind, out of his life. He’s never felt this way before - and he hated it.

~*~

“You told him to do _what_?” Zayn shouted at Louis disbelievingly, his eyes grown wide.

“I just gave him a little piece of advice! I didn’t think he’d actually _do_  it!” Louis whined defensively.

Zayn fell onto Louis’ couch in the lounge room, his head pounding. His two fingers fingers on each hand began to massage his temples subconsciously. Louis continued to stand, his hands supported by his hips as he looked at his feet - he seemed to be thinking about something, but Zayn had thoughts of his own to deal with.

“Louis,” he began again, “you _told_  him to kiss me. Of course he was going to.”

He sighed, and collapsed next to Zayn on the couch. “It wasn’t an order or anything. I just said that he wouldn’t know if he liked you or not until he tried it out.” He explained, and Zayn was going to think about whether or not Harry would have liked it - but scrapped the idea as soon as the memory of Zayn pushing him back came to mind. Louis turned to him, “well, at least you didn’t kiss him back, that could’ve sent some mixed signals - eh?”

Zayn turned away from him and automatically glanced at his fingers. Why _did_  he kiss him back? He knew perfectly well who it was, and why did he _enjoy_  it? He’s had visions of kissing Harry before, and plenty of dreams about it - he wasn’t going to deny that - but having it happen in real life and actually _liking_  it? That bugged him.

Louis waited for a response, but Zayn continued to stay silent. His mouth fell open, “Zayn you kissed the curly headed fucker, didn’t you?”

Zayn suddenly wasn’t in the mood to talk, and his eyes shifted everywhere but Louis’ judging eyes. Although when he took one glance, they weren’t judging at all. His mouth was spread to a grin and he was already nearly bouncing out of his seat.

“I can’t believe this, he kissed you to try it out and you _loved_  it, didn’t you? You really crave more now, I can see it. You wanna kiss him again and again and again and agai- ow!”

Louis’ unwanted rant was stopped abruptly by a hard force flying pillow. He laid back into the couch and caught Zayn’s little smirk that didn’t last long before it was already swiped off, but Louis knew it was still there on the inside.

“So,” Louis began after a while, “what’s gonna happen now?”

Zayn finally turned towards him and flashed him a look.

“What? It’s a valid question.”

He sighed, “I don’t know, honestly. I didn’t handle it very well, as soon as I realised what I was doing, I pushed him away and swore at him. Then I walked off.”

“Ohh, Zayn.” Louis shook his head, “you’ve always loved to play it mean.”

“Yeah, but this time I didn’t mean to.” Zayn was almost at a whisper now.

“Well, you really like him- yeah?” Louis asked him, but it wasn’t really a question - he already knew the answer.

Zayn shrugged.

“And he obviously likes you a lot, too,” Louis concluded, and Zayn opened his mouth to protest but was interrupted, “so, I think, if you go up to him tomorrow and apologise, he’ll obviously forgive you and you’ll probably kiss again, and you’ll be bangin’ in no time. _Ow,_ dude!”

The hit to his ribs wasn’t a pillow this time.

But maybe Louis was right, maybe he does like him a little bit. And maybe Harry does feel the same way, too. The annoying part was, the only person that knows this was Louis. Harry doesn’t know Zayn likes him - at all, for that matter - and Zayn doesn’t know Harry may like him.

And maybe Louis was right, again - you’ll never know if you like it until you try it.

~*~

Neither Zayn or Harry could keep track of how many days or weeks have passed since they first talked to each other. It might have been 30 days, maybe shorter. But to Zayn it felt like 30 years.

The pains in his chest keep getting more and more difficult to cope with, and the theories and ‘what ifs’ have duplicated and Zayn doesn’t know how much longer he can take before his brain explodes.

“Just go talk to him, seriously.” Louis is by his side, nudging at his arm as he points to Harry at his locker. He’s wearing skinny jeans today, and even the straightest guys at school looked him up and down to check out his nice legs and long torso. “He’s probably forgotten it by now anyway.”

Zayn sighed, tearing his eyes away from Harry, “if he had forgotten it, don’t you think he’d be talking to me by now?”

“Good point. He probably hasn’t - but he’s definitely embarrassed as fuck, I don’t think he’s gonna start a conversation with you anytime soon to be honest.”

Three girls strolled down the hallway, and in synchronisation, all turned their heads and gazed up and down Harry’s body, they all looked at each other and blushed at the sight. Zayn felt a slight clench in the left side of his chest, his eyebrows crossing subconsciously.

“So- you’re saying I should talk to him… Now?”

“Yes.”

“What if he hates me after what I did?”

“Then you cry about it and move on.”

“Louis,” Zayn looked at him, worried, “I’m serious. I don’t… I don’t want him to think I’m a jerk.”

Louis patted him on the shoulder, pushing him a step forwards, “you’re not a jerk, I’m sure he already knows that. Now, c’mon,” he tapped his butt, “go get him, tiger.”

Zayn was too nervous to slap his friend. He took a few steps towards Harry, breathing in and out slowly to try and maintain his cool. It wasn’t until he took another three steps that Harry noticed.

He looked at Zayn, and his chest heaved at the sight. He didn’t say anything - just smiled a tight smile before returning to what he was doing.

Zayn opened and closed his mouth a few times - always wanting to say something but not managing for any words to come out, so he kept shutting again. He took another deep breath before he opened.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was like a whisper, but Harry heard it.

He shook his head with a disbelieving smile, “why are you sorry? I’m the one that was stupid enough to kiss you without warning.”

Zayn felt like laughing. He also felt like shoving a fork through his heart. Harry was so sweet and caring - no wonder why everybody loves him. Even Zayn.

“You must think I’m such a bastard now.” His eyes were down on his feet, but he could still feel Harry looking at him, “I didn’t even mean to react that badly… I don’t know why I did.”

“I do.” Harry replied, the corners of his lips moving upwards slightly, Zayn looked at him now, his eyebrows starting to cross, “you like girls, of course you’re going to react to another boy kissing you,” he let out a short laugh, “I don’t know what I was thinking. So stupid.”

When Zayn looked at him now, his face upturned to a worried expression, moisture became noticeable in his eyes as he wanted so badly to just tell Harry how he felt - that what he did wasn’t stupid, it was actually a massive eye opener. He could see the hurt in Harry’s eyes as they turned away, which made Zayn feel even more like shit.

He shook his head, “it wasn’t stupid.”

But his voice was choked up, and only came out as a whisper once again. Harry didn’t hear him this time.

“Well, I’ll see you in class later.” Harry flashed him a smile that disappeared faster than it appeared.

“I’ll walk you there.”

“No, it’s okay.”

Zayn watched as Harry walked down the corridor. He wanted to bang his head against the locker, he couldn’t even look at him without hurting now. And he was 100% positive that he’s now lost the only person that made Zayn feel something that he’s never felt before.

~*~

Art class is the only period that Zayn and Harry don’t have together. Even though Harry’s very skilled musical wise, drawing and painting isn’t his strong suit. Unlike Zayn, who likes to think of himself as an artist in disguise.

But class without Harry only meant more time spent with Zayn’s brain. And when Zayn’s alone, the worst things come to mind. He hated over thinking, but every time he tries to not do it, it only comes back ten times more.

The paintbrush glided across the white canvas, the colour that spread across the material so freely reminded Zayn of how Harry walks. He used to walk down the hallways and through the school without a care in the world. His face was always decorated with a pleasant smile that caused no harm to anyone who walked passed him. In class, he’d always lean back on his chair, like the way he laughed - his head thrown back like a little kid, his hands clapped together as the sound echoed through the room. He didn’t have a care in the world - he lived his life so freely, just like the paint on the paintbrush.

He was happy, until Zayn came along. If he had just gone into another room and not seen his girlfriend kissing him, things would be so much different. If he didn’t get angry and shove him up against a wall and notice how beautiful he was, he still could be with Perrie. If he wasn’t such a moody shit and gave Harry space after he apologised for the first time, maybe he wouldn’t have walked in on him kissing a different girl. Or if he wasn’t as jealous as he was, maybe he would’ve stayed at the party and hooked up with another girl, too. Why did he have to think about Harry anyway? Why couldn’t he have thought about something else? And if Harry did mean a lot to him, why didn’t he just admit it, instead of going through pain everyday? And why did he push Harry off when he was finally getting what he wanted?

Now when Harry walks, there’s a slouch in his shoulders. Bags underneath his eyes, and face whiter than usual. His bouncy curls no longer bounce, and his usual calming smile is now forced. When he’s in class, he’s no longer leaning back on his chair - let alone laughing, he sits there with his head in his hands, silent and unmoving. Zayn wasn’t just putting himself through emotional pain, he also broke Harry.

“Oh…” The teachers voice faded off behind him, “nice… Picture, Zayn.” She added, now over his shoulder, “let’s try and paint something a little more… Happier, next time, hm?”

Zayn hadn’t even realised what his brush was creating until his teacher woke him up from his daydream. Even he was startled as he looked at it. The background was black, except for the middle of it - which was where the dark red heart was. It wasn’t connected, though. It was split down the middle, the rough edges of the half heart made it look like it had been teared apart, and there was blood dripping down from it, creating a dark puddle on the bottom of the picture.

“Uh…” Zayn turned to his teacher, unsure, “yeah, ‘course.”

They say that sometimes you paint what you feel. And Zayn could very much relate to that.

——~**~——


	6. Harry's P.O.V

“Listen to me, and hear me out on this, honestly,” Niall pointed his finger at him, his eyes wide and his tone stern, “in 5 years time, what’s really gonna matter to you more? Some kids at a high school who you hardly talk to anyway, or yourself and your happiness? And if you take my advice, I’d say it’s the second one.”

They were sitting in the front seats of his car, the window was down and the cool breeze of the winter night came through onto their skin. They were still sitting in Harry’s drive-way, they were supposed to leave 15 minutes ago.

“That’s a good point.” Harry responded, surprised at how much wisdom someone as carefree as Niall could have.

“Hell yeah it is.” He nodded once, “now, knowing that Zayn’s gonna be there shouldn’t stop you from havin’ a good time - am I right?”

Harry sighed, “yes.”

“Of course. But it’s how you approach the situation that matters. If he talks to you, what are you gonna do? Are you gonna snob him off and pretend like he doesn’t exist?”

“No,” Harry replied quietly.

“No, of course you don’t, because by ignoring each other, you’re both gettin’ nowhere. Instead, you smile at him and make a light conversation - hopefully he does the same, yeah?”

“Okay.” He agreed, nodding again.

“Okay,” Niall repeated, starting the engine, “let’s go.”

The roads were windy, more so than any other house they’d have to travel for a party. The hosts name was Ebony, and Harry knew that she’s had a crush on Niall since the seventh grade, that’s probably the only reason why she let him have as many plus ones as possible. They didn’t buy anything for her birthday present, but Niall’s presence was enough for her anyway.

It was an understatement to say that Harry was nervous. His stomach clenched uncontrollably, and every time Niall tried to make conversation, his only response from Harry would either be a nervous laugh or something he couldn’t comprehend - due to the fact that Harry was so nervous he was afraid that if he opened his mouth, he would throw up. But he had every right to feel this way, at every party Harry and Zayn have been at together, things happen. Bad things. Like nearly getting punched, or complicating feelings. Harry had a plan to stay away from Zayn, but in the back of his mind he knew that was impossible.

When they pulled up, they could tell that it was already well into the night. There were girls stumbling in their heels out the front, guys trying to hold them up and kissing their necks, and the music blared so hard that it was lucky this house was out of town - or else police would definitely be called.

“Wow,” Niall muttered under his breath, and Harry couldn’t decide if it was excitement or the fact that a very drunk girl just face planted.

Either way, it didn’t change Harry’s feelings at all. With a tightened jaw, he walked next to Niall as they entered the chaotic house. The music got louder and louder each step they took, but the situations seemed a lot more tamed than the ones they’d witnessed out the front.

It was like the girl had a sixth sense, Ebony was by Niall’s side within a second of entering, and being as oblivious as Niall, he didn’t have a clue that she had a thing for him. He led the birthday girl into an empty room - leaving Harry to search for somebody else he knew. His eyes gazed around the room, scanning over every face to see if there was anybody familiar.

They landed on one person, and quickly darted away.

 _” **Not** Zayn."_   Harry thought to himself, walking out as fast as possible, praying that Zayn hadn’t seen him too.

He walked passed a door, and swung open another one, leading him outside. A group of people sat in a circle, all chatting loudly, girls on boys’ laps and laughter all round. He scanned their faces, too, and went to walk away when nobody caught his eye.

He saw one of the girls that sat on a guy’s lap turn to whisper into another boy’s ear - someone that Harry couldn’t see the face of because he was turning the other way. But when he spun around, he knew it was Louis.

“Hey! Harry!” He bounced out of his chair and almost ran towards him. Harry could see Liam standing up from his chair just as Louis slammed into Harry with a hug.

“Hey, Louis.” He smiled back, trying to keep up with Louis’ enthusiasm but failing.

“Seen Zayn anywhere?” He asked him, and Harry felt his stomach churn.

“He’s in there.” He replied bluntly, pointing back the way he came.

“Ah,” Louis’ face was skeptical, “like they always say, you can always pick out the ones you love in a crowd of a thousand faces.”

Harry looked at him weirdly, “what?”

A hand appeared on Louis’ shoulder, “C’mon, Lou. Leave the kid alone.”

Liam looked at him with a grin and greeted Harry with a hug. In comparison to Louis’ red eyes and slurred words, Liam seemed sober.

“No, _you_  c’mon,” Louis poked Liam and laughed, buzzing, “but seriously Harry, you really gotta admit your love for my buddy Zayn, he’s absolutely dying inside because of you.”

Harry looked at him - and even though it felt wrong, Harry almost felt _relived_  to hear that. To know that Harry wasn’t the only one from the two hurting.

“Now you’re just talking shit,” Liam complained, guiding Louis away, “c’mon, let’s find you some water.”

“But it’s the truth!” Harry could hear Louis call out as he was being escorted away.

Even though the drunk boy was Zayn’s best friend and sort of knew what he was saying, Harry couldn’t help but not believe him. Zayn wasn’t _hurting_ , he seemed perfectly fine when he spoke to him the other day. When he apologised, it seemed so easy for him. And he hasn’t changed much in the way he does things anymore, he still comes late to class and scopes the room and talks to people who talk to him - there wasn’t anything about him to give away any sign that he was ‘absolutely dying inside’. And Harry wonders whether Zayn sees Harry hurting everyday, or if he’s hiding it as well as he thinks he is.

Harry sighed, and closed his eyes for a few seconds to screw his head back on. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t think about it, he had to try his hardest to keep that promise. Although, as he turned back around and bumped into something hard, Harry knew that all hope would be lost as soon as he looked up and apologised.

“Sorry, Zayn.” He mumbled lightly, not daring to look into those captivating eyes in the dark. He’d probably catch them glistening and to fight the need to kiss him again would be death.

Harry began to walk away until he heard his voice, “s’alright, want a drink?”

He had to look at him now. He didn’t want to be rude since Zayn just offered him something. Harry took the can out of his hand with a thank you and took a sip. And Harry was right, Zayn’s brown eyes shone as soon as he looked in them, and as Harry swallowed through his dry throat, he also felt his hands become clammy.

“I didn’t see you come in,” Zayn started, pulling out a packet from his jeans and a cigarette from behind his ear.

Harry cleared his throat, “yeah I, uh - Niall rushed me through.”

Zayn nodded as he took the lighter out from the cigarette packet and put it back into his pocket, then lit the dart that was now held between his teeth. As much as Harry hated smoking, Zayn made it look really hot.

“I think I need to, uh- Liam might need some help…”

“Nah, stay.” Zayn told him, after blowing out his first drag. His voice wasn’t even pleading, just two words that flowed out of his mouth without any emotion.

But Harry stayed, because Zayn told him to.

The conversation was only small talk, but it flowed casually. None of them picked up the topic of school, or what happened at school. And none of them touched the fact that Harry kissed Zayn. They only talked about how both their families are almost never home these days. And about Louis and how many drinks he’s had already. They talked about what they wanted to do when they’re older and their plans for when they leave school. Harry didn’t know how long they had been talking for, but his drink had finished and Zayn was on his third cigarette.

“Finished?” Zayn asked him after their conversation died down a little, and he cocked his chin towards Harry’s can.

“Yeah. Are you?” Harry asked him, tossing his empty can in the nearby rubbish bin.

“Great,” Zayn said with a smile, ignoring Harry’s question and stamping on his cigarette instead, “let’s do shots.”

~*~

Empty shot glasses surrounded the kitchen bench, the stench of vodka and other alcohol filled the area in which Harry was in. He had lost count of how many shots were his and how many were Zayn’s, but it was enough for Harry to be buzzing, his mouth pulled into a grin at everything Zayn said. Zayn was in a happier mood now, and Harry couldn’t decide whether it was because he was now intoxicated, or because he was with Harry. But right now, it didn’t matter, because Harry was purely happy, something he’d missed being for a while. And he was happy with _Zayn_ , they weren’t fighting or yelling at each other, they were downing shots and laughing at people and telling jokes that made no sense.

“You’re smashed,” Zayn told Harry, stifling a laugh.

His hand covered his mouth as his other hand pointed lazily towards him. They’d grown closer now, and they weren’t sitting any more. Zayn’s shin was touching Harry’s as they both lent their bodies on the bench, it seemed to be the only thing supporting their weight.

“No I’m not,” Harry replied innocently, shaking his head a few times but stopping once his head began to hurt a little.

Zayn laughed at him, the kind of laugh that always had Harry on edge. His eyes squinted as his mouth curled up, showing the top row of his teeth. His head leant forward as the sound travelled through Harry’s ears so gently. He could’ve fallen asleep with the sound of Zayn’s laughter.

“You’re really… Pretty,” Harry choked up, clearing his throat almost instantly after he said it.

He’d hoped that Zayn didn’t hear him and the sound of his own laugh drowned out the sound of Harry’s struggling words. But Zayn stopped laughing, and his crinkled eyes had relaxed.

“Pretty?” His tone was hard to distinguish. Was he flattered? Confused? Insulted? His head was cocked to one side now, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah… Your eyes, and those cheekbones… And your laugh-”

“Your dimples.”

“What?” Harry paused for a while before he responded, like it took him a while to register that he had lost his train of thought.

“I like your dimples,” Zayn told him, his expression still the same.

Harry felt his stomach flip, his brain became a big blur, and he knew that had nothing to do with the alcohol. Harry decided to tease him. And smiled. Knowing that, by doing this, both of his dimples would show. Zayn noticed, his eyes scanning Harry’s face wordlessly. Zayn looked so good regardless of whether he was smiling or not. He didn’t have to do _anything_  to his face to make Harry lost for words.

His lips were waiting for him, Harry knew it. _One more kiss won’t hurt._ It might have taken Zayn by surprise last time, but surely he’d see it coming this time round. To be sure, Harry warned him.

“I’m gonna kiss you now… Is that okay?”

Zayn stiffened, his eyes still scanning Harry’s face. He seemed unsure, but he nodded.

Harry’s fingers traced the left side of Zayn’s jawline, making sure that he didn’t flinch from his touch. He let his hand rest on the back of Zayn’s head, then with his other hand, rested it on Zayn’s waist, pulling him closer. His body was like a rag doll, he didn’t move, he was frozen, and Harry felt like he could move him into any position that he’d like. Their eyes connected again, and Harry was close enough to him to hear his breath speed up.

“Is this okay?” Harry whispered, the huskiness catching on the words as they were carried into Zayn’s ear.

He took in a shaky breath, “yes.”

And that’s all Harry needed to hear before pulling Zayn onto his lips. It was fuzzy, his head and everything inside of him. Zayn’s mouth moved into his more than Harry did. It seemed like the older boy wanted this more than what Harry thought. And when Zayn pulled away, Harry could see the confusion flash back into Zayn’s eyes.

“Something wrong?” Harry asked him, his hands still placed comfortably on different parts of Zayn’s body.

He shook his head, “I don’t think so.” He paused for a few seconds, then looked back up at him, “kiss me again.”

Harry was more than glad to. He went through with it more viciously this time, his mouth crashed onto Zayn’s, his tongue licking the bottom lip as they caressed together evenly. Harry could feel the power run through Zayn’s body, his hands grasped onto Harry’s back, pulling him even closer so their waists were touching. With every movement Zayn made, Harry could feel his hips roll upwards onto him. He could feel every part of him, and he could feel the tension between his jeans and Zayn’s.

He knew he was getting hard, and so did he, it wasn’t hard to tell since they were both rubbing up against each other. This was completely alien for both of them, feeling masculine hands wrap around their bodies, both feeling the same things in their pants, but what wasn’t alien for either of them was the urge to feel each other - bare skinned, no denim to separate them. Harry licked into Zayn’s mouth dominantly now, tasting everything Zayn tasted. It was a mixture of vodka and smoke and it drove Harry insane. Zayn grinned into Harry’s mouth now, pulling apart but still kept their foreheads touching.

“I never knew how badly I wanted you until now.” Harry felt his whole body tense up, he could feel his heart skip a few beats before it regulated again and returned blood into his system.

He smiled back at him, “now that I think about it, I’ve always known that I wanted you.”

Zayn grinds up him again, grabbing his back and sucking his neck. Harry was definitely hard now, his head rolled back as does his eyes, reliving the sensation of Zayn taking control and leaving marks on his neck. Harry’s hand, the one still wrapped around Zayn’s waist, makes its way down to his hips. Harry lingers there for a while, liking the way he can feel him grind up and down, and thinking about how much better this would be if they weren’t standing up. He continues down again, and finds Zayn’s zip, he can definitely feel him now. He stretches out his hand, and palms him through his jeans. Zayn lets out a gasp, and tears away from Harry’s neck to look him in the eyes. They were a different colour now, they were determined.

“We can’t do this here,” he breathes, his smirk still making an appearance.

“Then where can we?” Harry asked, squeezing Zayn’s ass gently.

He paused, then as though a lightbulb flashed above his head, he took Harry’s hand and led him upstairs. Harry noticed all the people at the party again, as if they weren’t there a few seconds ago. A few of them eyed off Zayn’s hand around Harry’s, but none of them did or said anything about it.

The room was empty, thank god. A double bed was placed on the far end of the room, and Zayn grinned.

“This is Ebony’s spare bedroom, I’m sure she won’t mind.” He said, and Harry wouldn’t have even cared if she _did_  mind.

“Great,” Harry whispered, already clinging onto Zayn’s shirt. He led him down onto the bed, Zayn falling between his legs, his arms laced around Harry’s neck.

The buzz of the alcohol still lingered in his head, making him unfocused. The only thing he could see was Zayn, the only thing he could feel was Zayn and the mattress beneath him, the only thing he could smell was Zayn’s scent and in that moment everything was Zayn.

He pulled him down so he was lying on top of Harry, their foreheads touching and their smirks matching. He rolled Zayn over, his knees beside his waist so Harry was straddling him. He traced down Zayn’s shirt, tugging it from the bottom and yanking it over his head, where it then was flown across the room. The contrast with Zayn’s dark skin with the white bed sheets was beautiful. Zayn’s tattoos seemed to stand out even more, every single one of them yearning to be touched by Harry’s eager hands. Harry traced down Zayn’s chest, passed the Arabic tattoo, the playing card, and down to the black heart on the other side of his hip. He unbuckled his jeans quickly, suddenly very keen to make Zayn love him.

“Quick, Harry,” Zayn’s voice was half gone, his eyes were shut but his mouth was open.

Harry realised how slow he must have been, how much time he’d spent on admiring the body in front of him. But now he didn’t waste time, he unbuttoned the jeans and pulled down the zipper quickly, watching as he sprung from underneath the hold. Harry had to swallow hard before looking at it again, almost embracing himself for him. He palmed him again, and watched as Zayn almost trembled underneath him.

“Harry… C’mon,” his voice was thick in Harry’s ear, as though he was _begging_  for him.

He didn’t like to be teased, and all Harry wanted to do was please him. Although his hands were shaking, he took Zayn in them just like he would with his own. His eyes were opened now, and the way they stared into Harry almost scared him. But Harry wanted to please Zayn. He wanted to be something that he’d remember and won’t regret when he’s sober.

So he took Zayn’s erection firmly, pumping it just so he could feel Zayn squirm. He leant down over his body, Zayn still in his hand, and kissed down his neck. He lingered on a spot, and made sure it would leave a mark. His movements became faster the more he went down. He tried to kiss all his tattoos on his body before he came, but that didn’t happen. He got up to his card tattoo before he went all over Harry’s hand.

Zayn’s deep breaths filled the room, “my _God_ … Harry…”

Harry crawled up beside him and kissed his neck softly, the same spot where he had created a mark. Zayn looked down at him from where Harry was latched to his chest. Harry tilted his head up and kissed him on the mouth.

“My turn.”

——~**~——


	7. Zayn's P.O.V

The tin roof of the house made the morning rain echo. There were voices below where Zayn slept, and he could hear the clashes of pots and pans and water running. And as Zayn rolled over, he could see out the window, there was no rain echoing on the tin roof. Instead, it was a shower running in the next room.

And as he rolled over, he felt the other side of the bed had been worn in, the smell was significant and the bed was still warm. After a few seconds, Zayn’s mind refocused, his thoughts backtracked, revealing what had happened the night before.

Harry.

He smiled to himself, and traced Harry’s outline that he had created in the mattress. He felt the urge to join him, wrap his hands around his waist in the shower, kiss down his neck… But something hit him.

What if Harry regrets what he did? What if he woke up and saw Zayn sleeping there next to him, still naked, and got scared? What if he wanted to escape as fast as possible? What if, after his shower, he was planning to just leave? Without a goodbye? And just pretended that all of this didn’t happen?

Zayn felt his stomach sink, _did_ he regret it? Zayn doesn’t even know how drunk Harry ended up being, even though he was saying he wanted it, was that the truth?

“Morning,”

The familiar voice came from behind him, and Zayn’s eyes automatically shot up towards it. Harry strolled into the room, a towel wrapped around his waist, another one in his hands, drying his hair.  
“Hey,” Zayn replied dryly, his voice still scratchy as he just woke up. He adjusted his position and hitched himself up on the bed, leaning on his elbows.

“They’re making breakfast downstairs, did you want some?” Harry asked him, hanging the towel that dried his curls over on one of the dressers.

“Uh…” Zayn was in a trance, to think that a few hours ago, that perfectly toned body filled with tattoos was placed on top of his own, made Zayn forget everything and only focused on him.

Harry pulled the shirt he was wearing the night before over his head, and before Zayn could prepare himself, the towel that was wrapped around his waist had dropped. Zayn was pleased with himself as he scanned Harry’s body, the long torso, broad shoulders, long legs, the perfect figure. He could look at him for hours.

It wasn’t until Harry was fully dressed, looking at him, when Zayn realised that he was still waiting for an answer.

He cleared his throat, “yeah, sure.”

Harry smiled at him, “I’ll go grab you some.”

Before he left he returned the towels to the bathroom, pulled on a pair of socks, and kissed Zayn lightly on the forehead. He exited the room as he began to whistle a cheerful tune. Zayn could have bounced out of bed, taken a shower himself, and joined Harry with a huge grin on his face. But he didn’t, because the guilt at the pit of his stomach grew and grew.

What they did last night was, in Zayn’s eyes, incredible. And the fact that Harry made a move on him first was even better. Zayn didn’t think it could be that easy. He just thought making him do shots would loosen him up, make his brain blurry. He didn’t think one kiss would lead them in a spare bedroom at somebody else’s house, returning sexual favours, like sucking each other off.

Not that Zayn was complaining, Harry made him hit a high that no other girl could. Harry was great.  
Harry was perfect. He was gentle when he spoke, his words flew out evenly and husky. His smile would create dimples, the ones that Zayn was absolutely head over heels for. His hair was always healthy, it didn’t need wax or combs like Zayn’s, and as he witnessed, Harry could literally roll out of bed or out of a shower and his hair would still remain the same - bouncy and glossy. And Zayn couldn’t forget Harry’s eyes, the kind that Zayn had grown to love - the way they looked when he laughed or smiled or even when they looked sad - those big, innocent, green eyes always managed to let Zayn’s guard down whenever he looked at them.

But Harry’s appearance wasn’t the only thing about this boy that amazed him. It was Harry’s presence, his nature, his personality. The way he brings light into a room, how his laugh can travel through and echo like it’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever heard. The fact that, even after Zayn had been a prick towards him, Harry still followed Zayn out of the classroom to make sure he was okay. After Zayn pushed him away and yelled at him, Harry still spoke to him and gave him everything Zayn could possibly ask for.

And that’s when it hit him. Harry was _too_ perfect.

Zayn doesn’t _deserve_ him. He deserves someone that will put him back in his place whenever he’s being a little shit, or someone who will abuse him whenever Zayn gets a little too greedy or moody. Or maybe, Zayn doesn’t deserve anyone at all.

Because Harry deserves someone that will love and respect him, someone who will treasure him as much as Harry treasures everybody else. He can’t have Zayn toy with his emotions like that and expect Harry to love him after it. Zayn does nothing but treat him like garbage, and Zayn knows, Harry deserves better.

Like a flash of lightening, Zayn’s mind was made up. He couldn’t let himself fall for somebody that was obviously too good for him. He couldn’t do that to Harry.

So.

Zayn threw over the covers and collected his clothes before throwing them on, too. He crept downstairs, making sure the floorboards didn’t creak underneath him. Through the corridor, he could hear every one that had stayed the night in the kitchen. The pots and pans that he had heard clashing together when he first woke up was the sound of them cooking bacon and eggs on the stove top. And just as Zayn placed his hand on the doorknob of his final exist, as though God wanted to punish him that little bit more, Harry’s laugh echoed through the house.

~*~

8 missed calls, 12 unread texts, all from Harry.

Zayn didn’t know why he would rather block him out than explain why he left, but he did. His phone rang, buzzed, countless of times before Zayn could pull himself up and turn it off.

“I still don’t see why you left him,” Louis mused, a packet of chips in his hand as his feet crossed over on the foot rest in front of him. His eyes teared away from the t.v screen to look at Zayn, his eyebrows crossed slightly, “I mean, you’ve obviously accepted the fact that you like the dude, so why escape from it?”

Zayn sighed as he collapsed back into his preferred position on his couch, and shrugged.

“You’re a very confusing person,” Louis muttered with a mouth full of chips, “no wonder Harry was getting so mad.”

Not that Louis meant it, but that last sentence had Zayn almost cringing in pain. He’s already made Harry mad he’s already made Harry upset, what more of a sign does he need? Zayn left because it would be better for both of them. Harry can feel normal again without Zayn making him feel good one minute, then terrible the next. And who knows how long that’ll last if Zayn sticks around.

On the Monday, he could _really_ see how worried Harry was. Zayn could tell that he was by the way he kept trying to reach him, but that didn’t compare to the whiplashed hug Harry gave him when he walked in.

“Jesus, Zayn! I thought you’d died!” Harry was grinning, he was beaming like a ray on sunshine followed him wherever he went.

And Zayn felt like the stormy cloud that rained on him.

“Yeah, sorry,” he patted Harry on the back, “I had to, uh, yeah I had to go somewhere.”

Harry pulled back from his hug and looked at Zayn with a frown.

“Something’s wrong.”

Zayn sighed, “no, there isn’t.”

“Yes, there is,” Harry rebounded back without hesitation, “I can see it on your face, for the first time I can actually _see_ that something is wrong.”

His hands were placed on Zayn’s shoulders, and his thumb was making circles in Zayn’s t-shirt gently.

At that moment, nothing was wrong. But Zayn knew, that in the back of his mind, Harry should be taking care of somebody else that deserved it.

“Honestly, Harry?” Zayn knocked off his soft hands, “it’s fine.”

He turned to his locker and opened it, then shoved his backpack in - before it got slammed shut again.

Harry’s face was there, his hand on Zayn’s locker door, “honestly, Zayn? I don’t believe you.”

He let out a groan, “I’m just… Tired.”

“Oh, really?” Harry cocked an eyebrow, “I thought, judging how you didn’t return _any_ of my calls or texts that you had either been taken, killed, or you were just sleeping. And, now knowing that it obviously wasn’t the first two, you probably were sleeping the whole of Sunday.”

Zayn rolled his eyes.

“So,” Harry continued, “how could you _possibly_ be tired?”

“You’re never gonna stop nagging me until I tell you something, are you?”

Harry just smiled devilishly and winked. “I’ll get it out of you, Malik.” He smirked, and smacked Zayn’s ass before heading towards his own locker.

Zayn shook his head and sighed, if only Harry knew that the way Zayn was acting was for the better.  
 _”Why didn’t we just stick with girls?”_ Zayn thought to himself as he collected his books and shut his locker.

In class, they sat in their original spots, but didn’t enter at different times. They walked together, and the whole time, Harry was trying to guess what had gotten Zayn down.

“Your favourite plant died,” Harry looked at him.

Zayn scoffed, “no.”

“Your cat doesn’t love you anymore,”

He shook his head, “no.”

“That band you really like broke up,”

“No.”

“Your mum’s a crack whore,”

“What?” Zayn’s voice rose an octave as he looked at Harry, “no!”

Harry laughed and entered the classroom with a grin. They sat down in their assigned seats that were separated. But just because they were 4 rows away from each other, doesn’t mean Harry could stop guessing.

Zayn felt a vibration in his back pocket and took out his phone, confused - until he saw that it was a text from Harry.

_:You’re wearing odd socks today and for some reason that really ticks you off:_

Zayn began to be completely amazed with Harry’s imagination.

_:Nope:_

A few seconds later, another text.

_:You’ve run out of cigarettes:_

Zayn’s mind sparked and he dug into his other pocket to reach for his packet. There were 4 left.

_:No, but thanks for reminding me:_

The teacher scanned the classroom again before she continued to write on the board, her back facing her students.

_:Pleeasssee tell me xxxx I hate seeing you upset:_

Zayn felt his heart wrench, he could see the back of Harry’s head, his face now in his hands. He felt his own face soften as he looked at him, he couldn’t take this much longer.

_:Maybe later:_

As soon as Harry read the text, he turned around in his chair and smiled at him, nodded once, as though he was securing a done deal.

Zayn looked at him with apologetic eyes, but he hoped that Harry didn’t notice that. And he put on a smile and nodded to him, and for some unknown reason, that made Zayn feel even worse than he did before.

~*~

“So… Are you gonna tell me?”

His voice wasn’t impatient or rude, and Zayn was surprised that it wasn’t. Harry had been waiting for words to come out of Zayn’s mouth for half an hour now. He’d been waiting patiently, sitting on Zayn’s bed with his legs crossed, his hands together in his lap. Zayn was sitting in his desk chair, his eyes on his fingers and his mind somewhere else.

In wasn’t as though Zayn didn’t _want_ to tell him, he just didn’t know _how_ to. What does he say? “You’re too good for me, go find someone else”? “We’ve had a good run, but I’m not your type”?

No, he had to phrase it in a way that didn’t hurt Harry’s feelings and didn’t make him sound like a douchebag.

“I’m really sorry Harry,” Zayn began, and took in a deep breath - he couldn’t even look in Harry’s eyes properly, “the thing is… You’re such a great guy, actually, you’re-“

He could hear Harry sigh.

“If you regret what we did just tell me.” He interrupted, his voice was a mumble now, he couldn’t even look at Zayn’s eyes either.

Zayn’s words caught up in his throat, and for a while all he could respond with was a shake of the head.

He tried to reason with him, but his voice came out in stutters, “no, that wasn’t- that’s not-”

“I get it,” Harry unfolded his legs and moved to the edge of the bed, ready to leave, “it was all a… stupid mistake, I get it.”

 _No, no, no, he can’t leave,_ Zayn panicked, his hands started to shake, _this is all wrong, so wrong_

He stood up, and Zayn was in front of him in a flash - his first instinct rushed through him, and he was soon raising his voice at Harry so he had his attention.

“Harry, no! I don’t regret it at all,” his words came out faster now, and Harry still couldn’t look at him. Zayn decided to tone it down a little before continuing. He took a hold of Harry’s hand gently, “please just… Listen to what I have to say.”

Harry hesitated, his eyes flickered from Zayn’s eyes to the door, to his hand and back again. He finally shrugged, and sat back down on the bed.

Zayn took in another breath and rubbed his hands on his jeans before he spoke. He started to pace in front of him, but stopped to look at him instead.

“You know I like you, Harry,” he said, his tone even, “and although it took me longer than it should have to work it out, I definitely do like you.”

Harry smiled, “I like you too.”

That goddam smile shouldn’t be there as he spoke to him. Those goddam twinkling eyes and those goddam dimples are only making this ten times harder than it should be.

Zayn’s stomach fluttered. He tried his best to suppress the feeling and make it go away, but he couldn’t - it stayed there for as long as that smile stayed.

“But, see, you shouldn’t.” Zayn blurted out - the meaning of this conversation bounded back into his mind and made him spurt out his argument.

Harry frowned, “why not?”

Zayn takes it back. He’d rather the smile.

“Because! You’re Harry, cheeky charming Harry. You should be with someone who’s… I don’t know. Not me.”

Harry scoffed instantly, his eyebrows crossed, “you think I’m too good for you?”

Zayn shrugged, “I know you’re too good for me.”

He didn’t look at Harry, but he could see in the corner of his eyes that he was getting angry. Zayn braced himself, and as soon as their eyes connected, Harry lost it.

“That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard!”

He was standing now, his hands waved around and his eyes were wide. His loud voice bounced off the walls and took Zayn by surprise.

“No, it’s not. You’re-”

“ _Yes_ , it is!”

Harry’s volume overpowered Zayn’s, his body came closer towards him, and before Zayn could process it, Harry’s hands were resting on Zayn’s face - not in a threatening way, they were gentle, protective -holding it into position.

“You are _such_ an idiot.” Harry whispered, shaking his own head.

Zayn let out the breath that he had been holding and smiled sarcastically, “Thanks.”

He could’ve sighed in relief that Harry wasn’t throwing things or throwing punches, Zayn didn’t think he was that kind of guy to get angry much, but if he was, Zayn would have no chance. He didn’t have the heart to hurt Harry now, he’d feel like a criminal.

“No, really.” Harry continued, “Out of everyone that I’ve been with, _you’re_ the one who thinks I’m too good for them.” He let out a short laugh, then looked him in the eyes, “Zayn, you’re perfect.”

Zayn felt a shiver rush down his spine, his throat closed up and in his chest were pains. He couldn’t even speak, let alone breathe. He was frozen into place, like all those times whenever Harry touches him.

“I cannot fucking believe that you’d even think that.” Harry continued, his hands still secured on Zayn’s face.

“But I made you unhappy,” Zayn’s voice was quiet compared to Harry’s, his hands now around Harry’s waist, because they were comfortable there.

“You thought I was happy?” He asked him, his arms now hanging loosely off Zayn’s shoulders, “Zayn, you’ve made me happier than I’ve ever been. You have no idea how much I want to laugh at your stupidity right now.”

He wanted to kiss him. Zayn thought that this would be over by now, that Harry would be walking out the door, on a mission to find someone else. But instead he _stayed_. He stayed with him and is willing to be with him, even though he deserves better.

“I wish you never made me like you.” Zayn teased, a smile now playing on his lips.

Harry placed a sad expression, “aw, why’s that?”

Zayn couldn’t respond. He was still in utter awe of the boy standing in front of him. How the fuck has he grown to be this lucky?

He leant in and kissed him lightly, just to make sure he still existed - and smiled.

\----~**~---


	8. Harry's P.O.V

Walking through the courtyard, it was difficult for Harry to not take Zayn’s hand into his own. They’d agreed to keep the public displays of affection to a minimum - since Zayn still didn’t know where his mind was at and wasn’t sure whether he’s ready for that kind of attention.

Of course, Harry complied and told him that it was okay, and that he’d give him as much time as he needed. Harry was overjoyed with having Zayn at his side - despite not touching - and getting to kiss him whenever he wanted - but of course, not in public.

They weren’t ‘together’ or ‘in a relationship’, they were friends. With benefits. And Harry loved that.

“What are you doing tonight?”

Zayn had been walking with his eyes to the ground and his hands in his pockets the whole time, and Harry wondered whether he did that so he could make sure he kept his hands away, too.

“Nothing.” Harry replied, “Did you wanna do something?”

“Yeah,” Zayn shrugged, looking at him now, “maybe we could… study.”

Harry scoffed, and nearly started to laugh - until he looked at Zayn’s eyes and nearly choked.

“Oh,” he cleared his throat, “I can definitely do that.”

Zayn chuckled, “good.”

Walking back to the lockers Harry felt nothing but butterflies. He didn’t even realise that he’d been smiling the whole time, until he caught Zayn admiring him.

“What?” Harry asked, unable to stop his growing grin, his eyes scanned Zayn’s face and he felt his own legs become weak.

Zayn just continued to stare at him for a few more seconds. His eyes were relaxed, and his lips were pulled into a small smile that only curved at the corners. What was he looking at?

He shrugged, and let out a short laugh, “nothing.”

“You confuse me,” Harry noted, turning towards him, “but I guess I like that.”

Zayn turned towards him too and really smiled now. Their faces were inches apart from each other and Harry’s hand automatically found Zayn’s. They lingered there, eyes staring and hands intertwined-

-until Zayn heard another student come through the door.

He suddenly pounced off so fast as though he’d just been caught doing an awful act. Like smoking on school grounds or drawing graffiti on the walls. He pretended to undo his locker as the student walked passed, music blaring out of his headphones as he stated at his phone.

The student wouldn’t have even noticed if Zayn and Harry were lying there on the floor making out - let alone touching hands.

When he finally left, Zayn turned around and met Harry’s eyes that were already looking at him, since he hadn’t moved. Zayn gave him an apologetic look, then hesitated.

“Harry, I-”

“It’s okay, Zayn.” Harry cut in, not needing an explanation, “I get it.”

Zayn nodded, just as the bell went and the hallway soon filled with other students. He flashed Harry a smile and Harry smiled back, pretending that it was fine.

But it wasn’t fine. Harry felt like his heart had disintegrated into millions of pieces. Zayn literally _flew_ off him. As though, if anyone had caught him even being _near_ Harry, he’d rather be dead. He was embarrassed to be around him, he was embarrassed to be _with_ him.

Harry should’ve known. Zayn’s too perfect for him, since when the fuck did Harry think that they’d work as a couple? They couldn’t, it was impossible.

Zayn can’t be seen with Harry, it’d be like seeing a swan with a toad - it just wouldn’t work.

So, Harry went home alone that night.

Not with Zayn, not to ‘study’, but to his bed. Where he laid down and shut his eyes. He heard his mum come home after a few minutes but didn’t open his eyes.

He heard her cook dinner and turn on the tv but he didn’t say hello.

Harry didn’t know how long he’d been keeping his eyes closed and staying in the same position for, but his phone started to ring and his arm hurt when he stretched out to grab it.

He hit answer without seeing the caller ID and brought it up to his ear, “hello?”

“Harry, are you okay?”

The sound was muffled but Harry didn’t have to think twice to know who was on the other line.

“M’fine, Zayn.” He replied, but still didn’t have the energy to sit up.

“No you’re not,” he said, and Harry could hear him shift around, and the sound of a keychain rattling in his hands “I’m comin’ over.”

“No, my mum’s here!” Harry protested through the phone, now sitting up.

Through the other line, Harry could hear the two clicks that symbolised the action of his car unlocking.

Zayn took in a breath, “then it’s time to meet the parents.”

“No, Zayn-“

But he’d already hung up. Harry let out a groan. His mum was never in the mood to meet new people after she’d come home from work. Harry never thought she’d have to meet Zayn, and he was happy about that. Because Zayn was all tattoos and smoking and parties and leather jackets - the type of boy that Harry’s mum would definitely not approve of at all. Even when Niall slips out a swear word when they’re playing video games and Harry’s mum’s in the next room - you’d often hear her yell out to him and tell him to watch his language, then mumble something to herself before returning to whatever she was doing.

Harry should warn her at least, the last thing she’d want is for someone to show up at her house uninvited, and that was exactly what Zayn was about to do.

So Harry jogged down the stairs and slowed his pace when he entered the room his mum was in. She looked up at him and smiled, which was unusual. But good.

“Hey, mum.” He smiled back, giving her a short wave.

“Hey darling, how was your day?”

It was great that she was in a good mood. And Harry made the most of it.

“It was really good,” he sat down on the couch next to her and she continued to look at him, “so, my friend Zayn is coming over-”

“Zayn?” She cocked her head sceptically, “how come I’ve never heard of him before?”

Harry shrugged, “he’s a new friend. He’s-”

“Oh, that’s great Harry!” She beamed, “so, what’s he like?”

“Well he’s coming over soon so you can check him out for yourself.” Harry replied, and his mum seemed glad with that. And just as she opened her mouth to say something else, the doorbell rang, “and here’s your chance.”

When Harry opened the door, Zayn greeted him with a smile - but nothing more, probably since he knew his mum was here. Harry also probably misjudged him, and was anxious to see how this situation would play out.

“Hello, Mrs Styles, nice to meet you.”

Harry hadn’t even noticed his own mum that had magically appeared by his side, but Zayn greeted her with a gentle smile and a shake of the hand and Harry knew his mum was already captivated by his good looks and charm.

“Oh, please. Call me Anne.” She told him, shaking his hand, “come on in, Zayn.”

She led him into the house, before flashing Harry an approving look. She’d given this look a few times, but only from Liam and Niall - some other friends that Harry had invited over previously didn’t have approval from Anne, and that usually meant that they weren’t welcome in the house as long as she was there. So by giving Harry ‘the look’, it was a good start.

Zayn walked passed him, following Harry’s mum, and Harry was left to shut the door behind him with a sigh.

“So, Zayn,” Anne started, and Harry rolled his eyes. It begins. “Why haven’t I seen you around before?”

Zayn shrugged, his small smile still on his face, “I’ve never really gotten to know Harry until a few weeks back. I guess we just hadn’t had the time to get acquainted before.”

Zayn was sitting on one of the kitchen stools as Anne opened and closed cupboards and drawers, the kettle boiling and three cups laid out on the bench. Harry leant up against the doorway, eager for this little meeting to end.

“What are you looking for, mum?” Harry asked her, and Zayn looked up at him with a smirk. Harry looked back at him, but before he could question it, his mum replied with a mumble.

“Our tea packets…” Another few drawers opened and closed, “I was sure we had some left…”

“I think I took the last one,” Harry lied. “Maybe you should go out and get some? Before you forget?”

Anne sighed, “Why don’t you ever tell me when we’re running out?”

But before Harry replied, his mum was already grabbing her keys.

“Okay, guys, I’ll be back in a few. Don’t destroy the house!”

As soon as the door locked behind them, Zayn was standing and Harry was no longer against the doorframe.

“That wasn’t too bad,” Zayn smiled, his fingers subconsciously playing at the hem of Harry’s collar.

“I didn’t realise that you had a way of dealing with parents so smoothly,” Harry replied, becoming all too aware of Zayn’s travelling fingers.

He shrugged, “I’ve had to woo a tonne load of girls’ fathers to let me take their daughter out - so I guess it’s like an automatic process for me.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “sometimes I wonder if you realise how cocky you are.”

Zayn’s fingers were now trailing down Harry’s shirt, and suddenly all of Harry’s worries and fears and emotion were all wiped away.

Zayn kissed Harry. And all that was left in Harry’s mind was _Zayn, Zayn, Zayn,_ and Harry couldn’t push away the flutter that was suddenly inside his chest.

And even though Harry knew that he was just another ‘girl’ that Zayn’s managed to hook in, Harry didn’t mind at all. Because even though Harry’d felt things with Zayn that he had never felt with any other girl, he’d learnt to deal with the fact that Zayn didn’t think of him that way.

And he can live with that. He thinks.

“She’s not gonna be gone for long,” Harry mumbled into Zayn’s mouth, and Zayn’s lips find his jawline as he pecks down it.

“S’okay,” Zayn’s arms linked around Harry’s waist as they pulled him closer, “I just needed to see for myself that you were okay.”

And to that, after everything he’d been thinking about, Harry scoffed. “No, you didn’t.”

But as soon as he said that, he wished he didn’t. Because Zayn reacted, and it was always bad news whenever he reacted. Harry tensed automatically.

Zayn pulled his face away, far enough so he could see Harry’s face clearly. His arms still linked around him, but his body leaned away, too.

He pulled his eyebrows together and cocked his head to one side, “huh?”

Harry tried to pull from his grip but Zayn wouldn’t let him go.

Harry sighed, making his body limp in defeat, “let’s face it, Zayn. Your sex drive is bigger than any other male on the planet.”

Zayn legitimately looked hurt now, and Harry tensed his jaw. “The fucks that supposed to mean?”

He’s not touching him anymore, he’s stepped away and the creases between his eyebrows were more defined.

“I know you only want me for sex now, but that’s okay, I-”

“What?!” Zayn was actually bewildered, and Harry’s mind was all a big blur. Was he thinking this all wrong?

“Harry, I don’t know what kind of bullshit you’re coming out with right now but I’m not some heartless player that puts people like you through trash just so I can have my way with them.” Zayn ran a hand through his hair, his feet switching positions, “I may be selfish but I’m not _that_ cruel.”

“But you _hate_ people seeing us together. You literally jumped three meters away when you heard somebody enter the room. Do you see where I’m coming from?” Harry justified, his voice a lot clearer than what he’d expected.

Zayn backed down, his shoulders drooped and his tone lowered, “yeah. Yeah, I see where you’re coming from. I’m just really… I don’t know if I’m ready… to, you know-”

“Come out?”

Zayn sighed, and he nodded weakly.

Harry stepped closer, and his body cascaded around Zayn’s, pulling him into his body. He was beyond glad to hear that, to know what Zayn was thinking for once.

“It’s okay,” Harry whispered, “it can be our secret.”

~*~

Harry’s hands wrapped around Zayn’s waist, they seemed to be most comfortable there, and Zayn’s left hand guided Harry’s hips, his other hand grabbed onto the fabrics of Harry’s shirt and the hot kisses between both of them were deeper and slower than they had experienced.

“In here,” Zayn growled, a sense of desire overwhelmed him, and when he opened his eyes to guide Harry, he could see that his pupils were as dilated and black as his own - filled with lust and something else Harry couldn’t decipher.

They were in Zayn’s room, it was bigger than Harry’s, and his bed was double the size. The big window on the far end of the room was open, but that was probably for the best since Harry’d already felt too hot.

“We haven’t done this in a while,” Zayn mused, his rough tone whispered into Harry’s ear, his hands tugging on the brim of his shirt before he hoisted it up over Harry’s head.

“It’s been like, a week,” Harry looked at him and smiled crookedly before Zayn took off his own shirt.

“A week too long.” Zayn said, as he pushed Harry over onto the big mattress and walked over to join him.

Zayn looked magical from this point of view. And even though Harry’d seen it before, this time his mind was clear, he wasn’t intoxicated, and he was fully aware of Zayn’s mouth leaving wet kisses down his body as his hand worked on his jeans.

“You’re gonna scream for me,” Zayn’s voice was low, determined, “can you do that for me, babe?”

His body was now leaned over Harry’s, his hand lingered over Harry’s eager erection as he waited for a response.

But Harry wasn’t sure he could even breathe. So he looked at Zayn’s frightening yet seductive eyes, and nodded.

Suddenly there was pressure to his penis and Harry’s breathing deepened, “good boy.”

~*~

Curling around Zayn’s body was like protecting someone that could easily protect them self. His body was overlapping Harry’s as they faced each other, and Zayn was still fast asleep when Harry woke.

He tried not to stir him, since he looked so darn good and way too peaceful to be disturbed, and untangled their limbs carefully so he could hop in the shower quickly.

Harry couldn’t help but smile at himself, and he wasn’t sure if it was a happy smile or just the smile he gets after he’s been satisfied. And Harry stayed in the shower for just that little while longer, in hope that Zayn would come in and be ready for round two.

When that didn’t happen, he dried himself faster than usual, and threw on the clothes he was wearing when he came here the night before.

He was expecting to see Zayn still in bed, still naked, and still asleep like he was. Instead, Harry found him out on the porch, in his clothes, with a cigarette held in his fingers.

Harry joined him, and slinked his arms around Zayn’s waist before pecking him on the cheek and resting his head on his shoulder.

“Hey, you,” Zayn smiled, and took another drag.

“Morning, beautiful,” Harry smiled, too, and gave him another kiss to his neck.

Harry could feel Zayn shift his head, then return back to his original position.

“Dang, I was hoping that you’d just be in a towel like the first time I woke up and you were out of the shower.”

Harry grinned into his neck and looked up, “and I was hoping that you’d join me in there.”

Zayn’s lips parted into a smile, and his cigarette joined his mouth again.

Harry then leant up against the wall on the left side, so he could still see Zayn’s perfect profile as he smoked out his dart and pressed it into the ashtray.

They didn’t say anything for a while, Zayn leant up against the right wall, his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and they just looked at each other.

Harry was admiring, but Zayn looked like he had other thoughts. Reaching into his jean pockets, he took out another cigarette.

“You know,” Harry was the first to talk, his voice even, “I don’t like the fact that you smoke.”

Which was half a lie, half the truth. Because he _loved_ the way Zayn smelt after he’d had a few, and he _loved_ the taste of it in his mouth when he kissed him. But he also hated watching him take in the tobacco, one after one, like he was setting up a slow suicide.

Zayn looked at him for a while, and to Harry’s surprise, he placed the cigarette back without another word.

—-~**~——


	9. Zayn's P.O.V

It wasn’t because he was submissive, or easy to persuade, or loved knowing that people accepted him - he wasn’t any of those things. The reason why Zayn had tried to give up smoking wasn’t because he knew it was bad, or that he thought he was having too many a day, or because he wanted to live longer - it wasn’t any of those things, either.

And as much as Zayn hated to admit it, it was unmistakably true that he had fallen for him.

And just because Harry had once said that he didn’t like him smoking, that seemed to be enough.

Because Zayn wanted to make Harry happy, he wanted to stick around and be there for him whenever he needed it. Because Harry made him excited, thrilled, happy, and he’s never met anyone who’d made him feel those types of emotions before.

Sometimes it’d be three times a week, maybe four, when either of them would go over to each other’s houses whenever their parents weren’t home, and they’d do what they did best. Sometimes they’d cuddle, share secrets, talk about the future or things that didn’t really make sense. But mostly, they’d stick to fucking each other’s brains out until one of them laid there numb and the other panted for breath.

But sometimes it’d have to end quickly, and either Harry or Zayn (it was mostly Harry) would have to crack open a window and sneak out because they had unknowingly misjudged the time they had, and the car being pulled into the driveway would be bad news for both of them.

It was fun, though. And Zayn had wondered if this is the biggest adrenaline rush he’s had in a long time.

“You seem happy lately,” Louis commented as they’re sat in the cafeteria, waiting for the other boys to join them, “I like it.”

He smiled, and Zayn smiled too. It’s become a new habit recently, and he couldn’t remember the last time he went a day without having a smile.

“Just lucky I guess,” he responded, but he didn’t look at his friend. He looked at Harry, the boy with the curls, waiting in line for his shit that the school calls food plops on his tray. He’s laughing, the kind of laugh that made Zayn’s whole body shiver with goose bumps the first time he saw it.

And Zayn wondered when it would be time to call Harry his boyfriend. When it would be time to get the fuck over himself and not be afraid of anyone else. He already knew that his closest friends wouldn’t have a problem with it; all that would matter would be his parents. And the rest of the school.

This time, when he looked at Louis - who hadn’t made a joke about not keeping his eyes off of Harry, or telling him a story about the prank he pulled in class - his eyes were sad, distant. And Zayn went into panic mode, because Louis never gets sad, only when it’s something worth getting sad over. And for Louis, that takes a _lot_.

Zayn traced patterns in Louis back and looked at him with concern until Louis looked back at him. It almost threw Zayn off guard, made his stomach drop, when he saw the sadness in his best friends’ eyes.

“Babe, what’s happened?”

Zayn made sure his voice was soft, and Louis, despite the fact that Zayn noticed his behaviour, tried to cover up the sadness in his eyes with a smile that was far too fake that would’ve had nobody convinced, let alone Zayn.

“We can talk about it later, yeah?” Louis asked him, but it wasn’t even a question, because Zayn knew he wouldn’t like to talk about his issues in public. He’d always been that guy to stand strong, and everyone in this small community knew that Louis was always the one to never break down and was always the one smiling and cracking jokes.

“Okay,” Zayn whispered, noticing the other boys coming over, “later, then.”

“Ey, Zayn,” Niall’s loud voice suddenly disturbed Zayn and Louis’ quiet moment as his tray smacked down on the table and his chair scraped along the floor before he sat down. “Haven’t seen you all day mate, where’ve you been?”

“It’s only recess,” Zayn told him, and to that Niall only shrugs and returns to the food on his tray.

Liam’s already sparked up conversation with Louis, and although Louis is laughing along with him and teasing him like there’s nothing wrong, Zayn could tell he’s not the only one who noticed the false tone in Louis’ voice.

“Zaayyynn,”

He felt fingers starting to trace up and down his arm, and noticed that Harry’s been calling his name, or, singing it, for however long. When he looked at him, Harry sighed.

“Ugh, finally!” Harry smiled once he’d gotten Zayn’s attention, “where _have_ you been?”

“Sh,” Zayn responded, “nowhere.”

“Is everything alright?” Harry asked, his playful tone suddenly cut off, “you can come over tonight if you want, it’s a free house.”

Zayn was tempted, but he shook his head, “I’ve gotta keep somebody else company tonight, sorry.”

And to that, Harry’s hand flexed around Zayn’s wrist, his eyes darted into him like some sort of laser attack.

“Harry, chill,” Zayn stroked the back of his flexed hand with his thumb, slightly turned-on by Harry’s protective/jealous side, “it’s just Louis.”

Harry relaxed, then looked over to the now silent boy, playing with his untouched food with his fork.

“Is he okay?” Harry mouthed, just in case Louis could hear him.

Zayn scrunched up his nose, “not really. That’s why I need him tonight… You can have me tomorrow night, yeah?”

And to that, Harry smiled, “s’fine with me.”

~*~

Sitting beside Louis, watching him feel uncomfortable in Zayn’s home, was gut-wrenching for Zayn. He’d been so caught up and relishing in his own life and its events, when he hadn’t even noticed what was going on with his best friend.

Louis was silent, and declined offers of a drink or something to eat from Zayn, because he didn’t think he’d stay for long. He was picking at his fingernails and biting them, something Zayn had noticed that he did whenever he was feeling anxious or was worried.

But Zayn waited for him to talk, and watched as Louis took in a deep breath before he finally spoke.

“They split up.”

And Zayn knew who he was referring to straight away.

His parents were never stable. His mum was always out, doing whatever she could to put food on the table, and his dad - well, if Louis could even call him that - was always sleeping around. From what Louis had told him, his parents would always argue, and his dad would always come home drunk and ready to take on whatever Louis’ mum threw at him.

Zayn glanced at him apologetically and brought his arm around Louis’ shoulders, “I’m sorry, Lou.” And even though he meant it, he couldn’t understand why Louis was so down about it.

They were fighting — _all_ the time. Zayn thought it might be better for Louis now that he doesn’t have to deal with that anymore.

“It’s not even that, though,” Louis continued, glancing at Zayn, “mum left and I don’t know where she’s gone. She’s left her mobile, her keys - everything. But _she’s_ gone.”

Zayn brought him closer and Louis leaned into him, “I’m sure she’s just gone for a walk… You know, just so she can clear her head for a bit? I don’t think she’d just leave you like that.”

Louis shrugged, “I don’t know. I’m just scared, is all.”

“Yeah,” Zayn whispered to him, letting Louis’ head lean on his shoulder as he comforted him, “it’ll be okay.”

After a few moments, Louis was quick to bounce out of this sad state. It was something Zayn had always admired, how Louis had escaped his misery quickly and jump back into being his usual self.

Something that Zayn always had trouble doing.

“I reckon we should do something tonight,” he quirked, looking at Zayn like it was the most brilliant idea he’s ever had.

“Really? Tonight?” Zayn asked him, confused but relatively excited.

“Yeah, why not?” He stood up and fixed his shirt, showing Zayn that he was serious about this, “we haven’t done anything in a _long_ time. Remember when it was just us? Remember how much _fun_ we had?”

Zayn thought about them when they were younger. When Louis just lived down the road, before high school, before they had any real worries. They’d always be doing something. And it wouldn’t be just playing video games or talking about chicks. They’d go out, every night before dinner, and they’d get into so much trouble that the locals would always steer clear or keep an eye out whenever they were together.

“Hey, I bet you $10 that I’d be able to throw this can from here to the bin,” Louis had told him, his arm thrown around Zayn’s shoulders as they walked.

Zayn had looked at him with a smile, and gave him his hand to shake it - as though that’d seal the deal.

He watched, and Louis un-wrapped his arm from around him, took the can into his right hand, leant back, and threw it right across the walkway towards the rubbish bin.

Zayn had thought it would’ve scored. If the policeman that was walking passed didn’t move in front of it accidentally.

It had hit him right in the temple, and his eyes scanned, and almost automatically landed on the young pair. Louis and Zayn watched as his eyes turned angry and his face started to redden.

They glanced a worried look to each other, “Run!” Louis told him, slapping Zayn on the back as they both turned around hurriedly and sprinted across the park to the closest corner.

Zayn was leant up against the wall, and Louis hunched, both of them trying to regain their breath. As soon as they had looked at each other - they were in hysterics.

“Yeah, I remember.” Zayn responded to him with a smile.

“So…” Louis couldn’t stand still, he was bouncing on his toes, “get off your buttocks and let’s go!”

Zayn hesitated, because even though when they were younger he was used to this and was always up for anything Louis said, it was different now. As much as Zayn hated to admit it, they weren’t the same as they were 6 years ago.

They were let off the hook easily before, since they were only young, the only punishment they had was a ban from seeing each other. And even though they’d break that rule too, the furthest it’d go was a “no television, no dessert” rule.

Now, if Zayn was caught doing anything mischievous or potentially rule-breaking, as much as his parents weren’t home, they’d probably stay home just to ground him. They’d take his phone away - and his privileges of seeing people outside of school. Like Harry.

But as he looked up in those pleading blue eyes, Zayn could do nothing but give in to make his friend happy.

“Fine,” he said, getting up and being instantly embraced by a very ecstatic Louis, “but we can’t get put in jail, okay?”

Louis stage-sighed and smiled playfully, “aw, since when did you become so sensible, Malik?”

Zayn ruffled his hair and Louis laughed, walking out of the house.

~*~

They didn’t up misbehaving. It was actually the heart to heart that Zayn needed.

That was probably the best thing about having Louis there. Sometimes he was radiant, and silly, and always knew how to have fun and always knew the right thing to say whenever Zayn was upset. But then he’d have a side that was serious, a side that not many people knew about him. He was cautious, protective, and cared about people - especially Zayn. He’d run a mile for anyone that meant something to him, and he’d _always_ \- without hesitation, stick up for someone he cared about, even if it meant putting himself in danger.

And if Zayn was honest - it was this side of Louis that made Zayn stay.

They walked along the porch that elongated over the water, their bodies bounced off each other in rhythm as they walked closer to the edge, something they’d always done when they were beside each other.

They sat down on the edge, Louis’ legs dangled over the side while Zayn stayed a good distance away from falling in. They were silent for a while, and as the sun began to set, the quieter the place had become.

“So, you and Harry - huh?” Louis asked, his eyebrow quirked up suggestively. He leaned back, the palms of his hands keeping him supported.

Zayn was about to hit him lightly - until he found himself smiling.

“I can tell he obviously means a lot to you.” Louis stated, not looking at him anymore, but out to sea.

“What makes you say that?”

“Zayn - you haven’t had a cigarette all day. You would’ve had like, 6 by now.”

Zayn crossed his eyebrows, then shrugged, “what’s that supposed to mean? Maybe I’ve just decided to quit.”

Louis scoffed, “Ha - yeah, or, Harry told you he didn’t like it and you stopped for him.”

He may be weird sometimes and do things that Zayn just stares at - but Louis’ a goddam psychic.

“How the hell did you know that?"

He smiled, “well, I already knew Harry hated it. And as soon as he came over that one time, I’ve only seen you have like 1 or 2 since. So, you know, it’s not that hard to figure out.”

“Yeah but… still - that’s crazy,” Zayn’s eyebrows remained crossed. He let out a sigh and laid down on his back, his eyes gazing at the already appearing stars, “I guess you have to thank him, then.”

“Bullshit!” Louis hit Zayn’s leg but he didn’t flinch, “I’ve been trying for years to make you quit - then this little fucker comes along and you drop it like that.” He clicked his fingers and Zayn laughed.

“Yeah but you didn’t give me blow jobs, did you,” Zayn grinned, and Louis hit him again.

“Fuck off, I don’t wanna hear that.”

Zayn laughed again, and Louis lay down beside him. It was silent again for a while as they both admired the stars above them, the faint sound of the water below crashing against the rocks. It was nice.

“What does he mean to you, Zayn?” Louis suddenly asked, his voice curious.

Zayn didn’t respond straight away. But after thinking about it long enough, he shrugged. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Well he’s sure as hell keen on you, Malik.”

Zayn smiled, and watched as new stars appeared above him. But his smile faded once his mind went wondering again.

Harry can only wait for him for so long until he finds someone new. Someone better. But Zayn’s _still_ not ready.

——~**~——

 


	10. Harry's P.O.V

 

They both knew they weren’t going to watch the movie that Harry put on. But it was a good cover up in case Harry’s mum decided to come home early - they had thought these kinds of things through.

Making out on Harry’s couch was one of the many things they liked - it was comfy, and large, and perfect to move around on.

Harry had been craving Zayn all day. He couldn’t keep his eyes off him; even Niall told Harry that he was looking at him as though Zayn was his prey. Which was probably accurate, Harry wanted to _devour_ him.

And as soon as Harry sat back down on the couch next to Zayn after pressing play on the ancient TV, it seemed like Zayn had the same fantasies. He pulled him over, not letting a second go pass as he took Harry’s lips to his own. He squeezed Harry’s arms, and Harry leaned over him so his body could touch every part of Zayn’s possible.

Harry broke away first, and Zayn made a sound of disappointment, before Harry leaned into his ear with a growl, “you looked so fucking hot today. Almost couldn’t contain myself,” he traced up Zayn’s neck with his tongue, before nibbling on his earlobe, tugging as though he was a piece of meat, “and now you’re all mine.”

Zayn took in a sharp breath; the goose bumps that appeared on his skin weren’t because he was cold. He took Harry’s mouth again, eager to taste those words that he just heard, wanted to feel his breath on his own. Harry traced up Zayn’s leg rougher than usual. He was beyond eager - that wasn’t a lie. He wanted Zayn. _Now_.

He tugged at the hem of Zayn’s shirt and broke away just so he could rip it off Zayn’s body. He took his own off in one movement, and their bare chests touched and moved against each other - their heat exchanging, as well as the friction in their now very tight jeans.

“Harry…” Zayn’s voice was clear, he whispered, hardly audible, but it was something Zayn heard distinctively above the breathing and the occasional squeaks of the couch.

Harry only hummed in response; his mouth began trailing down Zayn’s body, kissing down his neck, quicker than normal.

Zayn’s hands cupped around Harry’s face, forcing him to look into his eyes. They weren’t a light brown, or shiny - they were almost black, filled with desire and lust and Harry almost forgot how to breathe.

“I want you.” Zayn mumbled, his voice deep and needy - and it was enough for Harry to take action immediately, his cock hard inside his own pants.

Harry fumbled with his hands instantly, undoing Zayn’s buttons and tugging them down. Harry bit his lip and held Zayn in his hand, stroking up and down. But Zayn wasn’t in the mood for gradual - and neither was Harry.

Zayn leaned up, and kissed Harry down his chest, his fingers unbuttoned Harry’s jeans, ready to yank them off in one pull.

They threw them both onto the floor beside the couch, next to their shoes. Zayn tugged at Harry’s hair, brought him closer to his body and kissed into his mouth hard.

“You wanna be fucked?” Harry growled through gritted teeth, his body pressing up against Zayn’s, his mouth right up to his ear.

Zayn let out a small moan through his lips, and rolled his hips up towards him, his thigh between Harry’s legs.

And that was all the certification Harry needed. He pressed one sloppy kiss on Zayn’s jawline before licking his fingers and pressing them in the middle of Zayn’s thighs, slicking up the area and inserting his fingers slowly.

Because although Zayn was in no mood to go slow, Harry made sure he eased into this, because Harry knew how much this had hurt him the first time.

Zayn moaned again, and arched his back a little once another three fingers were inserted, “ugh, fuck me Harry.”

So Harry took them out, and made sure he was slippery enough. He aligned his cock, and pressed it up against Zayn, which always made him take in a sharp breath, then moved his hips forward gradually, watching as Zayn’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, his mouth parting as his breath quickened.

“Harry, oh _God_ \- please,” he paced, his hands secured on Harry’s hips, gripping into his skin.

Harry moved faster, gliding in and out and clenching onto the outsides of Zayn’s thighs with his hands.

“Fuck Harry, _fuck_!” Zayn was getting louder, his grip becoming tighter.

Harry slinked his arms around Zayn’s lower back and brought him up. Zayn moved his legs so they were kneeling beside Harry as Harry leaned back onto the couch.

Zayn moved above him, and Harry took the time admiring how good he looked from his angle.

“Harry… I’m gonna...”

Harry rolled in, hitching himself on his elbows, one hand holding Zayn’s dick in place as his mouth wrapped around it. He finished him off, catching all of it and swallowing quickly. He pulled out of Zayn and came on Zayn’s chest before he could cover it.

“Shit.” Harry looked at the thick liquid on Zayn’s body and Zayn let out a breathless laugh.

“S’alight,” Zayn shrugged with a smile, “I don’t mind having sperm on me.”

This time Harry laughed and shook his head. “Here,” he leaned over Zayn and grabbed a box of tissues from behind him and wiped it off with 4 tissues then threw them into the nearest bin.

Zayn got dressed, and Harry had a shower. Harry offered Zayn a bed for the night but he had declined and said that his mum was expecting him home. So Harry kissed him good-bye and texted him that night saying: ‘I miss you.’

~*~

Yesterday night, when Zayn was with Louis, Harry had decided to spend some time with his mates, too. He’d gone over to Niall’s house with Liam, and although Harry had thought it’d be just the usual hang-out with video games and food, it had surprisingly turned into an interrogation.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked the two of them as they faced him - their expressions intrigued, like Harry had just witnessed a murder and Liam and Niall were the cops, listening to him as he told them everything that he saw.

“Jus’ sayin’, you shouldn’t hide yourself,” Niall told him with a shrug, “it’s gonna eat you up inside I can tell.”

“Niall’s right,” Liam added, nodding his head and tapping Niall’s leg a few times, “there’s no point in hiding it, Harry.”

Harry frowned, “hiding what?”

Niall and Liam exchanged looks, and Niall rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Never realised how fuckin’ oblivious you are sometimes.” Niall mumbled.

“Hey!” Harry exclaimed, sitting up straighter right now, “I’m not oblivious, you guys just aren’t very clear right now.”

“Your sexuality, Haz.” Liam told him, his voice softer than Harry’s, “You’re hiding it.”

Harry scoffed straight away, “am not!”

Niall groaned and left his couch to go into the other room without saying another word. Harry frowned as he looked at him, but Liam hardly noticed.

“How many people know? About you and Zayn, I mean.”

Harry swallowed hard, he adjusted his position and cleared his throat a few times, “erm, you... Niall… Louis... And, uh-” he sniffed and adjusted again, “you...”

“Alright,” Liam got up from the couch and sat down next to Harry, “what’s stopping you from letting people know? We don’t go to a very big school, and usually word spreads around pretty fast in it, so you’re obviously keeping it a secret. Well, that’s what I’m guessing anyway.”

Harry sighed, and bowed his head, “yeah, we are.”

Liam let out a breath and brought Harry closer to him; his arm slinked around his shoulder. Harry curled up against his chest and let his head nuzzle where Liam’s shoulder dipped.

Harry was always used to Liam being the big protector and Harry had always hugged him around the waist because he was too tall. But after these few couple of months, Harry seemed to have gotten the same size as Liam, and now they don’t fit together like they used to.

But Harry stills curls up beside him, because it reminds him of innocence and he needs some sort of protection.

“I can always tell when something’s chewing you up.” Liam told him quietly, his fingers playing with Harry’s hair lazily.

Harry closed his eyes and shrugged, “doesn’t really bother me too much.”

Liam shifted his position so he could look at Harry and Harry opened his eyes again. “Really? You don’t mind keeping your relationship a secret?”

Harry shrugged again, “he’s not really ready to come out yet so… I’m just waiting.”

There was a sound in the next room, something smashed on the floor. They both jolted, and could hear Niall swear loudly to himself, then mumbling as he cleaned up whatever mess he made.

Harry laughed, but Liam was quick to get back to business. He leaned up Harry so that he was facing him fully now, his eyes rolled.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” he sighed, shaking his head and patting his knee lightly, “what are we going to do with you?”

“Why?” Harry crossed his eyebrows, “what’s wrong with waiting?”

“Niall!” Liam called.

“Yeah?”

“Get in here!”

“Liam,” Harry nagged, “what?”

But before Liam could respond, Niall was already back into the room. He held a dustpan and a sweeper and already looked stressed.

“What ya want?”

“Tell Harry it’s bad to wait.” Liam told Niall, and Harry began to protest.

“It’s bad to wait.” Niall said straight-forward, and began walking back out of the room but Liam grabbed his arm firmly.

“Also, tell him why you’re so agitated.”

Harry looked between Niall and Liam. They were both frowning, but nobody was frowning more than Harry at that moment because he was far beyond confused. He could’ve just tattooed a crease between his eyebrows, because that’s how goddam permanent it felt.

“I’m agitated because you’re an idiot.” He told Harry flatly, and Harry jerked his head backwards, surprised, “you’re an idiot, because you only care about others, never for yourself. And now I know why your mother hates this about you because look at where it’s gotten you! We’ve got Zayn, walkin’ around all high and mighty and throwin’ you around ‘cause he knows that you’re gonna take his shit,” Niall then sat down on the coffee table and lowered his voice, Harry still stared at him - mouth gaped, “and then we’ve got you. Sittin’ on _my_ couch, crawlin’ up to Liam and tellin’ yourself that this situation doesn’t kill you. Honestly, Harry, look me in the eyes right now and tell me that it doesn’t pain you to walk down those corridors with Zayn _not_ holding his hand. Or not bein’ able to kiss him in school whenever the fuck you want. Or not labelling him as your boyfriend, or not bein’ able to bring him home to your family and have them be okay with you two playin’ footsies under the table. C’mon, look me in the eyes right now, and tell me that doesn’t bother you.”

Harry leaned back into the sofa. He dropped his head, and although his expression was blank, there were a million and one thoughts running through his mind.

Because it _did_ bother him. A lot.

He always wants to take Zayn’s hand as they walk together, always wants to kiss him in class and at lunch times and during school, he wants so badly to bring him home and say, “this is my boyfriend, Zayn.” But he _can’t._

Harry doesn’t give a rat’s ass about how other people see him. And if other students give him shit for liking guys then so what? He’s about to graduate in 2 years so it’s not like he’d have to live with that sort of judgment for the rest of his life anyway.

But Niall was in front of him, waiting for an answer.

Harry looked at him, but averted his eyes almost instantly. As much as Harry wanted to say “it doesn’t bother me” he just really couldn’t.

But Harry could’ve hugged Niall right then, because where would he be if he didn’t have Niall there to guide him? Liam was his comforter, but Niall was something else.

He had the wisdom, he had the honesty not many people have, and tells absolutely everybody his true opinion if somebody asks for it. Because Niall’s _real_. There’s no bullshit and no games.

And he knows how to put things into perspective for people.

After a few seconds of silence, Harry looked back up at Niall. And Niall just kept waiting.

“Oh, Harry,” they heard Liam say, and Harry was being pulled into his arms once again, “it’s okay.”

Because unknowingly to Harry, he had started to cry. Tears fell onto Liam’s shirt, and Liam stroked Harry’s arm gently.

Niall was by his other side; he had put down the dust pan and sweeper and replaced it with tissues. He leaned over to him and wiped his tears away, and whispered soft things to him until he stopped crying.

And Harry had wondered if that was all he needed. His advisor and protector, not some beautiful, deadly boy that’s caused him more harm than good.

~*~

So that night, when Zayn left to go home and after Harry texted him telling him that he misses him; Harry laid there in bed, thinking.

Why didn’t he bring it up with him then? Why didn’t he just _say_ what’s been chewing at his mind? Zayn deserves to know, but why was it so hard to say it?

Because he doesn’t want to lose him, that’s why.

He doesn’t want to lose having him there after school, when it’s just them and nobody else. That’s the time he feels complete, because Zayn tells him that he’s needed and that Harry’s all that he wants, and that’s all that he needs to feel loved. And being loved by Zayn is something Harry hadn’t gotten used to yet; because the feeling is so _surreal_ that he doesn’t think he’d ever be able to warm up to it.

And he’s afraid, that if he confronts Zayn about becoming official, then he’ll leave him.

He’d said it before - or, slipped it out actually - and the expression on Zayn’s face made his whole body falter. The fact that it could be _so_ easy for Zayn to walk out the door and never turn back to him makes Harry’s toes curl and chest hurt.

But is Zayn really his? Not really. Sure, they have moments and kisses and cuddles and times where they both thought they were in a relationship - but in reality, there’s no security on it. They’re just ‘ _friends with benefits’_ , Zayn could be seeing someone else for all he knows.

He erased that last thought out of his mind immediately as his stomach dropped a mile and his hands began to burn.

He _needs_ to know that Zayn is his, he doesn’t care if Zayn doesn’t reveal himself; Harry’s still going to be there if someone else tries to hit on him. Harry might only care for others and put them first, but he’s still possessive as fuck.

~*~

“But Liam, what do I even _say_?”

It seemed like Harry was transported to a few months back, when he was so intimidated to talk to him. Zayn was by the wall outside of the school with Louis and two other girls, he wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation that was taking place - he was leant up against the wall, his fingers drummed on it as Louis paid attention to both of the girls. It seemed like he was trying to hit on one of them, since he was smiling and leaning into her playfully. The other girl, was also listening to her friend, but also slyly moving closer towards Zayn.

And because Zayn was off in his own world, looking everywhere but the two girls, he didn’t notice the blonde one that showed obvious interest in him. She picked up on his lack of acknowledgement and decided to act on it.

But because Harry was pretty far away from the cute little gathering, he couldn’t hear what was being said. So Harry tried to lip-read.

The blonde said something he couldn’t decipher, and Zayn’s head turned away from Harry’s peripheral vision to look at her. All Harry could see from Zayn was a nod of the head. She laughed, and Harry could feel his jaw tighten.

Her hand brushed against Zayn’s arm lightly, stroking down ‘subtly’, and Zayn smiled. Harry’s fist clenched.

And when the girl leaned into Zayn’s ear to whisper something, Harry suddenly found his confidence, and walked over.

“Hey, curly!” Louis greeted, he smiled.

“Hey.” Harry replied bluntly, and before Louis asked why he was so grumpy, he looked over to Zayn and the blonde girl and his smile dropped.

“Oi, Zayn!” Louis called, and Zayn didn’t seem phased at all, he looked annoyed, actually. This made Harry feel a little better. “Excuse me, Blondie.” Louis pushed in between the girl and Zayn, “sorry to interrupt, but he’s got someone else, love.”

The girl scoffed, and her friend frowned, “who?”

Harry had the sudden urge to say “me” but he stopped himself. Zayn must have known what Harry was thinking, because he shot him a look straight away.

“Ha, well,” Louis scratched the back of his head when he realised what he had just said, “Her name’s... Uh...”

Zayn rolled his eyes and the blonde stopped Louis before he made up some name. She walked off and took her friend with her, before her friend winked at Louis and Louis mouthed something like “I’ll call you.”

Harry looked at Zayn and Zayn looked at his shoes. There wasn’t something right with him today, but Harry _had_ to talk to him.

“Zayn?”

He glanced up at him and smiled vaguely as some kind of greeting. Was he mad because Harry just ruined his chances with that girl?

“Can we... Can we talk?” Harry asked him cautiously, his eyes fixed on Zayn’s every movement.

“Should I…?” Louis pointed in the other direction to which they were standing in and Harry nodded.

Louis flashed Harry a look, but Harry didn’t catch onto what it meant. Louis then tapped both of them on the shoulders quickly before walking away, leaving the pair to stand in silence for a few seconds.

Harry cleared his throat, “Look, Zayn-”

“Harry, I already know what you’re trying to say.” Zayn told him, cutting him off and standing upright, off the wall.

“You do?”

Zayn nodded slowly, “I’ve been thinking about it, too.”

There was a pause, and Harry wondered if Zayn was really thinking about what Harry was thinking… Or if it was something worse.

“You have?” Harry asked, a lot more cautious this time.

“I know I’ve been slack on my part but I have to tell you…” Zayn took in a deep breath and Harry braced himself for the worse.

_”He’s gonna say it, he’s gonna break up with me, I can feel it. Please don’t say it please don’t say it…”_

“And I just… I still don’t think I’m ready.” Zayn confessed, really looking into Harry’s eyes for the first time that day.

Harry could’ve let out a sigh of relief; but he didn’t. He still wasn’t in the all clear.

“I am.”

Harry finally told him, not as proud and loud as he had hoped. But Zayn still looked at him, wide eyed.

“Are you - sure?”

“I don’t know why I shouldn’t be. I mean, I obviously like you, and I’m obviously not straight-”

“No I don’t-” Zayn stopped himself, then took in a deep breath and changed his words, “I know you’re sure that you’re gay… But are you sure you’re ready to let people know that? Our school isn’t very accepting, you know.”

Harry just shrugged. Then thought about it for a while. Coming out would be a hell lot easier if somebody else was there by his side, doing it alone was a scary thought.

He took Zayn’s hands in his, but made sure nobody was around, and brought him closer.

“If they find out then I don’t care. As long as you’re by my side, I don’t care.”

And to that, Zayn smiled, and kissed him lightly before the bell went.

—-~**~——

 


	11. Zayn's P.O.V

 “It’s been forty-three _fucking_ hours.” Zayn paced. And it wasn’t like the anxious pacing complete with nail biting and fidgets - it was irritated pacing.

His voice was angry, his steps were hard on the floor and one hand was in his hair and the other hand tapping on his jeans in an upbeat pattern.

Louis watched him, a smirk playing on his lips as he saw Zayn crouched in a ball now, his head between his knees that was shaking.

“Dude,” Louis managed to spurt out before he went into a fit of laughter. 

Zayn looked up, his expression was annoyed and his fingers flexed. He glared at Louis, but he kept laughing.

“What!?” Zayn spat, unravelling from his curled position. 

“You’re so fucking whipped man,” Louis told him through laughter, “forty three hours-” he couldn’t finish his sentence; he’d erupted again. 

“Oh, fuck off.” Zayn threw an empty tissue box that lay on the floor to Louis’ head, but missed and hit the wall beside him. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Louis braced his hands as a sign of surrender but still smiled, “why don’t we buy you some more then?” 

Zayn sighed. He would _love_  to go out and get another packet. But he’d promised himself that when he finished the one he had when Harry was over that time he said he didn’t like it, Zayn would try and stop smoking. 

The packet ran out less than two days ago and Zayn’s never felt more restless in his life. 

“C’mon, it’s done you more harm than good,” Louis told him, getting up from the stool chair to help Zayn off the floor, “you can’t just stop abruptly, it takes time, you know.” 

Zayn thought about it. And because Louis’ such a good persuader and he’s the only person Zayn’s let into his life, he nodded.

“You know what we haven’t done in a while?” Louis asked him as they sat in the car on the way to the chemist. His window was rolled down, even though it was night-time and colder than ice outside. 

“What’s that?” 

“Gone to a party.” 

Zayn scoffed, “Louis, we always go to parties.” 

“Well, not anymore!” Louis looked at him, his eyebrows raised, “not since you and green-eyed boy have been seeing each other. We’ve gone to like, one.” 

Zayn shrugged, “yeah. That is a poor effort.” 

“I know!” Louis turned down the road and honked at a few cars driving passed, he sighed and continued. “That’s why, I want you to come with me to this one on the weekend.” 

“Okay.” 

Zayn didn’t even have to think. It had been a while since he’s partied with Louis, and it’s about time to. 

He ran into the store and grabbed a packet of darts. He lit one as soon as he got outside and closed his eyes as he could feel his body calming down.

~*~

“I forgot to ask you,” Zayn began, a cigarette held in his fingers as his back leaned against the brick wall outside of the house they were in. Louis stood beside him, his eyes darting towards everyone that came through the door, as though he was looking for someone. “Have you found your mum?” 

Louis seemed to snap back into undivided attention as soon as the word ‘mum’ came out of Zayn’s mouth. The party was loud, but not as loud as they’d experienced before. There were a few people in the house, but none of them seemed to appeal to Louis for now, and that’s why he was probably scanning every girl that rocked up. 

He hadn’t mentioned his mum to Zayn since the night that he told him what had happened. He also had returned back to his usual self, bubbly and happy and ready to do anything. But it got to the point where Louis was just putting on a mask so Zayn wouldn’t worry. 

Louis nodded, “yeah.” 

Zayn took another drag and flicked, the access burnt bits floated down to the ground. “She alright?”

There was silence for a while, the white noise of music that none of them listened to drained through their ears. And Zayn had started to wonder whether or not Louis had actually heard him. But he shrugged, and avoided eye contact - focusing on a piece of loose rubble as his foot began to squish it. 

“Not really, to be honest. She’s got a few bruises here and there, but…” 

He shrugged again and Zayn bounced off the wall, “what?!” 

“Zayn, relax.”

“What do you mean relax?” Zayn raised his voice, his cigarette still squeezed between his fingers and his eyes widened, “aren’t you furious?” 

“Well, yeah - but we sorted it out.” Louis replied, his eyes flickered everywhere but Zayn’s intimidating eyes and Zayn knew he was lying. 

“Who was it? Who hurt her?” He demanded, his eyebrows crossed.

“Zayn we don’t know. She won’t tell us, but it’s okay…” Louis’ voice faded and the last part came out slower as he pulled a tight smile, “she’s home.”

Zayn sighed heavily, Louis was right. At least she actually returned home and didn’t stay out there. His parents may fight a lot but Louis’ mum has been Zayn’s substitute mum every time his real one went away. She meant a lot to him, and a hell lot to Louis. 

“You’re right,” he nodded, and took another cigarette out once he realised his other one had been wasted, “at least she’s home.” 

He returned back to his wall and lit the new dart, and Louis went back to eyeing the girls. There weren’t any changes in his expression, Zayn watched him. One girl walked in, and Louis’ eyebrows rose slightly, until he saw an arm around her waist pulling her closer, and Louis’ face dropped.

“This party is ass, man.” Louis groaned, “I’m sorry I dragged you to this.” 

Zayn shrugged, “we can go where ever you want, ‘m not fussed.”

“Yeah,” Louis cocked his head towards the door, “let’s go.” 

But as soon as Zayn started to follow, who else walked through the door but Harry and his pack of two. Zayn grinned, but suddenly took notice of what was in his own hand.

“Shit,” he mumbled to himself, and quickly threw his half-smoked cigarette to the ground and squashed it with his foot, hoping that Harry hadn’t noticed.

“Hey, babe,” Zayn walked over to the talking crew, and Harry’s face lit up. 

Liam and Niall said hello, but their voice had a strange tinge to it. Zayn decided to let it go. 

“Hi!” Harry greeted cheerfully, and wrapped him in a hug. 

Zayn pulled away first, and couldn’t help noticing Liam and Niall eye him off. 

“We were just about to leave,” Zayn told him, “good thing you came.” 

Harry laughed, “The party’s just started.”

And he was right. The music got louder (and better), the alcohol kept coming, more people arrived, and Louis was finally chatting up a girl that was his type. 

Zayn would be lying if he said he wasn’t drunk. He had lost count of how many drinks had been handed to him, and he didn’t care about downing every single one of them until his balance became unstable.

“Harry, I gotta tell ya,” Zayn fell into him, his arm slinking around his waist and his hand stroked his chest, “you are… Beautiful!” 

Harry smiled and Zayn poked his dimple, “so are you, Zayn.” 

“Mmmmm, I have a confession.” 

Zayn’s head fell on Harry’s shoulder, he could hear his deep breathing and Zayn swore he had died and gone to heaven. 

“It’s okay, Zayn. You can tell me.” 

Zayn took in a large breath and hung his head like a child who was telling his mother that he’d done something bad. “Well, I’ve been... smokingbehindyourbackandI’msorry.” 

The last part came out in a fast mumble and Zayn covered his face as soon as he said it. Harry brought his hands down and all Zayn could see was a smiling face in front of him. 

“It’s fine, babe.” Harry kissed the top of his head and brought him closer, “Now, let’s get you over to-” 

“I love you, Harry.” Zayn grinned, his eyes fixed on the only boy in his sight, “and I’m tired.” 

He yawned, but Harry was completely opposite to tired now. He looked at Zayn, wide-eyed. 

“W-what did you just say?” Harry’s voice was shaken. 

Zayn crossed his eyebrows, confused, “when?” 

“Just before. Just then.” 

His eyes wondered, as though he was thinking, “oh, ‘I’m tired’.” He pulled a dopey smile and leaned into Harry’s shoulder even more. 

Harry rolled his eyes, “no, not that… The other thing.” 

Zayn smiled goofily up at him now, and his eyes drooped, “that I love you.”

He pecked Harry’s face and his head lay in the crook of Harry’s neck and closed his eyes. But before he could fall asleep, he felt Harry’s hand cup his face and pull him up. 

He waited until he opened his eyes again, and Harry was even still beautiful when Zayn’s vision was blurry. 

“I love you too, Zayn.” Harry smiled, and the bubbles that floated around in Zayn’s stomach couldn’t compare to the ones in the alcohol that he’s had that night.

Zayn leaned into him and kissed Harry, wanting to taste the words that he had just spoken. During the kiss, Zayn could’ve sworn that he could see flashes of light in the distance, but Harry’s lips were on his own and when that happens, nothing else truly matters.

~*~

“You weren’t very secretive Saturday night,” Liam said on Monday morning at school, Zayn was early for once and Liam’s the only one there before the bell goes, “must’ve been strange for you.” 

Zayn looked at him, the bags underneath his own eyes were unmistakingly noticeable and the drowsiness in his voice made it obvious that Zayn wasn’t used to early mornings. But his headache lasted all weekend and sleeping didn’t help, so he thought he may as well make it to school on time. 

Zayn almost didn’t hear Liam. He pressed the sides of his head with his second and first fingers and forced his eyebrows together in confusion, “what’s that mean?” 

Liam shrugged, “oh, I’m just saying. You never show Harry love around other people.” 

This time, Zayn definitely listened. “Yeah, I’m gonna be honest with you - I have no clue what the fuck I did Saturday night.” 

And to be honest with himself, he was scared.

Liam laughed, “Well, to straighten things up for you, you were practically a growth on Harry. You couldn’t leave his side. I thought it was cute.” 

The slight sarcastic smirk on Liam’s lips didn’t go unnoticed by Zayn. His muscles suddenly tensed when he realised how many people from his school were actually there that night. 

“Liam - please tell me we did not kiss.” 

But to Zayn’s disappointment, Liam scoffed. “Oh, man. You did more than that.”

Zayn cringed. He looked around the empty school and threatening images of disrespectful students, bullying and harassing Zayn filled his mind.

“This is bad, this is bad, this is bad…” Zayn kept repeating it out loud, more to himself but Liam heard anyway.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Liam was no longer smirking, he noticed how stressed Zayn was getting and a gentle hand took his shoulder, “it’s okay, yeah? You can just say that it was a drunken fling if somebody confronts you.” 

“You think that’d work?” Zayn asked him with worried eyes. 

Liam nodded, “and if they abuse you for it then call me.”

They both grinned, and Zayn nodded appreciatively. But flash forwards of Zayn getting hit or abused, or worse, Harry getting hit or abused, darted across his mind. The thought of Harry getting hurt made Zayn’s insides shiver and his stomach churn. 

But neither of them can change what happened. People were going to find out sooner or later. Zayn just wished it had been later.

The bell went - and just like a herd of animals, the school started to fill. Voices echoed through the cafeteria where they were sitting and familiar faces walked around with their bags hanging from their shoulders. Zayn decided to keep his head down, it wouldn’t be long ‘till somebody from the party would see him. 

And when Zayn felt a hand on his shoulder, he jumped.

“Whoa, it’s just me,” a familiar voice laughed behind him, and Zayn turned to Harry. 

“Hey.” 

Harry smiled, but then glanced confusingly at Liam. Zayn looked at him, but Liam had already changed his expression to a normal one when Zayn turned around. Zayn sighed, and continued to keep his head down.

A few moments passed, but the atmosphere stayed the same. Until footsteps reached their table.

“Well, well, well,” a more unfamiliar voice bounded through the room, accompanied by a snicker, “if it isn’t the happy couple.” 

Zayn felt a shiver run down his spine, and Harry’s hand on his shoulder became more present than ever. He wanted to leave, go back home, hibernate somewhere like he had been before Harry came into his life. 

 _”Please don’t speak, Harry. Please don’t speak.”_  

“What do you mean, ‘couple’?” Harry defended, knowing that Zayn didn’t want anyone to know. But playing dumb wasn’t going to save anybody. 

The strong voice scoffed, Zayn still didn’t want to look him in the eye, he already knew who it was.

“Don’t be like that Harry, friends don’t give friends hickeys like that.” 

Zayn heard the screeching of chair legs scraping across the floor. “Brian, let it go. They were both drunk out of their minds.”

Liam had gotten out of his chair, talking to him like he was somebody to mess with. But Brian had the sort of personality that only clashes, and his favourite target was Zayn. Always was, always will be. 

“Didn’t know Zayn swung that way.” He said mockingly, ignoring Liam’s protest. His tone of voice pierced through Zayn’s body; and the quietness of the room scared him. 

“Maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t.” Harry responded weakly, he’s never been good at confrontation. He should just walk out, if Zayn was being honest.

Brian laughed, “Ha, okay ‘boyfriend’.”

“Oi, Brian what’s goin’ on?” His friend, Mike, slapped him on the shoulder. Zayn didn’t have to look up, his North American accent could be noticed anywhere. 

Harry flexed his hand around Zayn’s shoulder tightly, but Zayn couldn’t move. This is what he feared most.

“Nothing, Mike. Just talkin’ to a few faggots.”

This time, Zayn looked up – that word attacked him more than it should’ve. Harry’s hand clenched even more, but it wasn’t comforting. Zayn felt his guts turn inside out and his face drop into a grimace. The two boys stood there, looking at Harry and Zayn, laughing. Zayn wanted to die.

“Excuse me, Liam. What did this fuck face just say?”

Zayn was expecting Harry’s voice behind him, but it was someone else’s. Someone that Zayn didn’t have to look at, either, because it was all too familiar. 

“I said,” Brian raised his voice and took a step forwards, his left eyebrow rose, as though he was eager for some competition, “I was talking to these two fags.” 

Zayn looked at Louis, who was now walking towards Brian. He may be little, but his ego was huge. 

“That’s not very nice,” Louis told him simply, fighting the urge to use snarky remarks, the ones that Zayn knew he had there up his sleeve, “and you and I both know what happened in eighth grade, don’t we?” 

“Shut up, Louis.” Brian was suddenly backing down. His eyes darted around the room fearfully, and everyone looked at each other in confusion. What happened in 8th grade? 

Louis shrugged, “I’m just sayin’, it’s a bit hypocritical of you to call them fa-” 

“I said shut _up_!” Brian’s face was now furious, this secret that he was holding - one that Louis must know - was eating him up inside.

“Ooh, touchy.” Louis raised his eyebrows, and Zayn wanted to laugh at how fearless he was. “Wouldn’t want anyone to know about what happened on camp in-” 

“Fuck _off_!” Brian yelled, one of his clenched fists raised, and Zayn squeezed his eyes shut.

He felt worthless, unhelpful and guilty. If he hadn’t been so fucking stupid to fall in love then he wouldn’t have gotten into this mess. People wouldn’t be staring, Harry wouldn’t be attached, and Louis wouldn’t have been hit. 

Although, if Harry wasn’t there, Louis _would_ have been hit. Because Harry caught Brian’s arm in the last second of it hitting Louis’ delicate face, and swung him around in the same moment.

The stares between Harry and Brian were deadly. Zayn had never seen Harry so serious before. The tension would’ve been ten times stronger if it wasn’t for Louis’ laugh, mocking Brian’s failed attempt. And the loud whistle that pierced everyone’s ears.

“Everyone to their classes.” The booming voice from one of the teachers called out, and students started to shuffle to their class, “Now!” 

Harry and Brian remained stern, but Harry pulled away first, his hand jolted to his side, releasing the firm grasp on Brian’s arm. Their eye contact was the last thing to break away, until Brian finally turned away to Mike, before muttering something to Harry. 

“C’mon, mate,” Louis’ voice rang beside Zayn, a hand touched his back, “let’s go.”

Zayn hadn’t said a single word throughout this whole thing, and it felt weird to even look Louis in the eyes. Liam was by Harry’s side, making sure that he was okay and congratulating him on something Zayn couldn’t work out. Louis tapped him on the back once more and Zayn finally snapped out of his trance and got up from his seat. Harry was there instantly, his smile was comforting but his eyes were worried. 

He opened his mouth to say something but Zayn beat him to it, “if he talks to you again, ignore it. If he confronts you, don’t say a _word_.” 

Harry frowned, and started to say something else but stopped himself before any words came out. He resorted to giving Zayn a quick nod, and Zayn walked off with Louis.

~*~

Art class last period was different this time. The whole day was filled with nasty remarks and evil glares, but no arguments were held and no punches were thrown. Zayn was lucky to have gone the rest of the day without a fight, but that didn’t mean he would be at ease.

He didn’t smile at all that day. Not even when Louis tickled him or commented on Mrs Burn’s new outfit. Zayn didn’t feel the need to smile. One night at a party and everything goes downhill.

 

This time, he didn’t care that his teacher gasped when she saw the skulls that he had drawn with blood red colours in the background. She told the class to paint with feeling - so he did.

After class, Zayn did the usual routine. He washed his paintbrushes, put the easel away, and after being subtly told that his painting wasn’t needed around the classroom, Zayn threw it out. But it was when he was packing up his pencils, that Zayn heard a loud thud coming from the hallway outside.

The teacher was already back in her office, and Zayn didn’t think much of it - if there are any collisions, Zayn wanted to stay far away as possible.

But the scream of pain that came next was far too familiar for Zayn to ignore. He almost ran out, and as he stood there, he could feel his heart nearly fall out of his mouth.

Harry - weak and battered - lay on the floor. He had given up, Brian and a few of his mates were gladly pounding into him like he was some kind of rare meat, and nobody was stopping him.

Zayn looked at Harry’s face, he was turned away from him, but he could still see his eye that was already starting to bruise, and his lip that had been cut. He was curled into a ball, clenching onto his stomach because it had been kicked, and wrenching out painful sounds with every touch.

Zayn couldn’t stand to watch anymore, the sight of it was enough to put Zayn in a state that he’d never been in before. He swore he saw red in that moment, and he couldn’t have cared if Brian died beneath his fist.

“Hey!” Zayn shouted, his voice loud enough for them to stop and look around.

Brian smiled melodramatically at him, but he obviously didn’t see how mad Zayn actually was. And as Brian moved towards him and opened his mouth to say something stupid, Zayn’s fist was already there, slamming his mouth shut.

Brian lost his balance and fell to the floor, his two other friends kneeled down beside him, trying to help him back up but Brian waved them away.

“Fucking kill him!” He yelled, pointing towards Zayn.

The red that he had seen before had vanished, it was the only source of power and adrenaline he had. Seeing the two bigger boys coming towards him made Zayn freak out. His mind went fuzzy and his only instinct was to flee. But he couldn’t. Not with Harry still there, groaning and moaning in pain.

One of the boys cracked his knuckles as he walked forwards. Zayn started to back away into a wall. He took one last glance to Harry and back at the two guys before he braced himself for the worse.

“Oh no, nah uh.” Louis was suddenly there behind the two, shaking his head. Zayn opened one eye carefully, just in time to see both of them fall down unexpectedly.

Louis smiled at Zayn, and Zayn smiled back for the first time that day. He really has to thank Louis more often.

But the two guys were already back up, since all Louis did was kick them behind the shins so they’d collapse. And Brian was still hurting Harry and telling him to shut up.

“You okay?” Zayn asked Louis and even though he looked unsure, Louis nodded.

Zayn acted fast, and pushed Brian away from injured Harry. He kicked into him hard and forced him down onto the ground, strapping both his hands above his head. And spat.

“What the _fuck_? Get off me you homo!”

Zayn punched him again, and it was enough to make him shut up. He crawled over to Harry and rolled him on his back carefully, lifting his head up onto his lap. He stroked his face, making sure he didn’t touch any of the bruises or scares, and kissed him on the forehead softly.

“I’m sorry,” Zayn whispered.

Liam and Niall were already there, Zayn didn’t know when they came or where they came from, but they helped Louis fight off the two boys who eventually backed off and told them all to watch their backs.

Brian was cringing in pain, and it was ironic that he could dish it all out but couldn’t take it.

Louis helped Zayn pick Harry up and let Harry sling his arms around both of their shoulders.

“Harry, mate. Why didn’t you fight back?” Niall asked him as they all walked towards the nurse.

For a small school, it was crazy how not one teacher heard that commotion.

Harry struggled to talk, but he did anyway. “Zayn told me to walk away, so I did.” He breathed in and out a few times before he could talk again, “but I guess they caught up.”

Zayn felt a gut wrenching pain shoot through his body. And that’s when it sparked him yet again. He can’t keep putting Harry through this sort of pain, before, it was just emotional. Now, the pain was physical.

It had to stop.

——~**~——

 


	12. Harry's P.O.V

People stared from then on. But not the way they used to. They weren’t looking Harry up and down to admire the length of his torso or the size of his hands or the curls of his hair. They looked at him with disgust, they pointed and grimaced with their friends and they whispered his name whenever he walked passed, followed by an insult that Harry always tried to ignore. He wasn’t greeted with a smiling face or beaming eyes or lovely gestures, he wasn’t greeted at all.

He only had Niall and Liam. Since Zayn fucked off and Louis was nowhere to be seen.

School was gloomy. There was no other way to describe it. Every morning, Harry had considered staying in bed and weeping his troubles away - but what’s left of the positive side in his brain had made him get up.

Maybe today will be better, he thinks, maybe today Zayn will come.

But he doesn’t.

It’s been a week and in every class, Zayn’s a no-show. Harry had tried texting, calling him. But there’s always no reply. So Harry eventually gave up, he’d gotten the memo. And talking to Louis was a no-go zone, too. Since he’s always hanging out with other people whom Harry’s only said about two or three words to in his life.

The first day back after the fight, when Harry’s scars were just healing and all the bruises were starting to show, Louis had been giving him apologetic looks and saying soft passing words to him in the corridor like, “keep your chin up”, “I’ll see you around”, “feel better soon”. But now, Harry felt like just another fly on the wall. It was as though once the rest of the school gave him attention, the ones that mattered to him stopped.

“Harry, mate,” Niall patted Harry’s cold back one lunch time as they sat in the cafeteria, “eat something. You’re all just skin and bones.”

But Harry didn’t want to eat, he didn’t want to sleep, he didn’t want to be at school, he didn’t want to do _anything_. Except talk to Zayn.

Brian had called him out a few times over the week, but regardless of the consequences last time, he took Zayn’s advice and just ignored him.

In the next week, Brian’s attempts of nagging Harry had stopped. And Harry couldn’t even pin-point what day it was or what had made him stop. Or maybe Harry was just so numb, that he didn’t realise.

He was going by everyday feeling the same emotions over and over again, he’d cry sometimes. At night, into his pillow. Because at night-time there’s nothing to distract him from himself. Maybe that’s why he comes to school. The constant chatter and movement around him in the only thing keeping him sane.

On Friday, the second week of going without Zayn, Liam walked Harry home. They were silent most the trip, until they were half-way to Harry’s house. Liam turned Harry’s shoulders towards him, so that he had his full attention. And although Harry wasn’t all there, Liam tried anyway.

“This is ridiculous.” He told him, his eyes not daring to leave Harry’s, “are you really going to mope and moan _just_ because some dick told you that what you’re doing is wrong?”

Harry doesn’t know why Liam bothered to wait for a response. But he did anyway, and Harry looked back at him blankly.

“Jesus Christ it’s like talking to my cat.”

Liam’s hands dropped from Harry’s shoulders to cover his own face in despair.

Harry felt sorry for him. He knows what it’s like to lose a friend, or somebody close to him. He doesn’t know why Liam keeps trying, because Harry’s gone. And he doesn’t know when he’s coming back.

Liam waited, and waited. But Harry still just stood there, a glaze over his eyes and his face pale as snow. There wasn’t any life in him anymore, he wasn’t even _Harry_ anymore.

Eventually Liam sighed, “Walk yourself home. I’ll see you at school.”

And Harry watched as Liam walked back up the street. He didn’t start moving until Liam turned the corner, vanishing from his sight.

Harry wanted to smile, how sweet of him to try. He always knew Liam would be the last one to give up, but it was about time. Everyone was leaving him, so why shouldn’t he?

~*~

Nights were gloomy and days dragged on. But Harry was getting better.

Not in the sense that he was coping well and getting on with his life, but he was out of the moping stage. Which Niall and Liam had congratulated him on, since being around such an unsocial and moody person put them both in bad moods, and have started talking to him again.

But Harry, himself, wasn’t getting better. Although punching his pillows and screaming in the shower seemed to release some built up tension inside him, rather than crying for hours on end. He’d moved onto a new stage. Anger.

“Glad you’re not weepin’ anymore.” Niall had slapped Harry on the knee, flashing him a short smile.

Harry had shrugged, “just anger now.”

Because Harry needed to _feel_ something. Because without Zayn, Harry was empty. Anger replaced that. _Expressing_ anger replaced that.

He knew Zayn didn’t want anything to do with him, why else would he choose to not talk to him? Why else would he make Harry go through the traumas of battling school on his own?

He needed an answer, it sucked not knowing why. So, the next day at school, Harry finally cracked.

“Louis, I know we haven’t spoken for a few weeks but can I ask you something?”

Harry had caught him in his spare. He felt like a creep, following him to Louis’ study block, but at that moment he couldn’t care.

Louis eventually looked up at Harry from his seat; he swallowed harshly, then finally spoke.

“Sure.”

Harry took a chair from underneath one of the tables and swung it round so it faced Louis, and sat on it.

“I just wanted to know…” Harry took in a breath and continued, “How is he?”

If there’s anybody who’d know about Zayn’s whereabouts, it’d be Louis.

But to Harry’s surprise, he just shrugged.

“Louis, please. I haven’t seen him in almost two weeks.” Blood pulsed through him angrily for a few seconds when that realisation came to mind, “I just… I just need to know.”

But Louis shrugged once again, “sorry, man. I – I actually don’t know.”

He was quiet. Not like himself. And Harry could feel his blood boil again. It had taken days for Harry to work up the courage and finally talk to Louis again after what happened - _just_ to ask him one question. And he’s hiding it from him.

“Fuck, Louis,” Harry massaged his forehead with two fingers stressfully, “I’m not asking you for much, could you just answer it? Please? So I don’t have to feel like a fucking loser?”

“Harry, I’m telling the truth,” Louis’ voice broke at the last syllable, but he remained quiet, “I don’t know.”

Harry’s eyebrows crossed, and his hands began to pulse. He stood up abruptly, stopping Louis’ heart for a few seconds, and Harry began to clench the table without realising.

“What do you _mean_ you don’t know?! You’re the only other person that fucking talks to him!”

His voice came out raspy, louder than intended and Harry ran both his hands through his hair in frustration. He tightened his fists, taking a hold of his curls. He let go as soon as memories of Zayn’s hands gripping at his hair flooded his mind.

“Harry, sh!” Louis looked around, making sure other people weren’t looking at the scene Harry was beginning to make, “can you sit down before somebody hits you /again?!”

Harry’s jaw clenched and his knees started to shake, but he sat down and waited for Louis to start talking. Which he finally did, reluctantly.

“I’m not really supposed to tell you this, Harry,” he looked at him sternly, but all Harry did was flare his nostrils and clench his jaw. Louis sighed. “That day when you got hurt… Zayn was telling me that he wouldn’t be at school for a few days, and that he didn’t want you to know where he was for some reason… But I’ve forgotten why.”

There was thick tension between them now, but Harry’s anger still bubbled through him - he didn’t even know why.

“But after the first few days that he hasn’t been here, I haven’t talked to him either.”

Harry’s insides dropped.

“What? You mean… You mean he’s _missing_?”

“No, no, no… I don’t - I don’t think so.”

Louis’ eyes showed a glimmer of worry, but he masked his emotions instantly. Harry, on the other hand, read right through him.

“Louis, do you or do you not know where Zayn is?”

Harry spoke slower than normal; making sure his words came out clear and precise. He was leaning at the edge of his seat, his hand moving at every word. His face was intense, as though Louis was the only thing that he could see.

“W-well, he hasn’t been at his house. Nobody has, the lights are never on when I go passed. So he’s not there.”

Harry slammed the desk with the side of his clenched fist. Louis gulped.

But after a few seconds, after some given thought, an idea sparked.

“I think I have an idea of where he might be.”

~*~

Louis’ house was big. It was bigger than Harry’s and Zayn’s and it was bigger than any house on Harry’s street. But Louis didn’t let Harry in. Instead, he told him to wait outside the gate while Louis went in to talk to his mum.

Harry stood there, his backpack near his feet that were crossed over loosely, and his hand in the pockets of his jacket. It was cold, and as the wind blew passed, Harry could feel his nose start to get numb.

Louis had said something about Zayn getting really over worked about something, and then he said another thing to do with his mum… Harry wasn’t really listening. Because when the realisation hit that Zayn hadn’t been at school this whole time, and Louis hadn’t heard a word from him since, Harry went into a sort of mode where nothing else mattered but finding him.

 _Maybe this means that Zayn wasn’t really ignoring me_ Harry thought; _maybe he’s been trying to find me, too._

And when Louis walked out of the house and told Harry what direction he might’ve been headed, Harry was quick to pick his backpack up and start walking.

~*~

It was almost twilight when they reached the dock. Louis’ mum had told him that she went here when she had disappeared after her fight with Louis’ dad. Louis had filled Harry in on how she came home with bruises and how Zayn got really worked up over it. And that Zayn might’ve come here to seek her abuser.

When Harry heard that Zayn might be looking for a guy twice his age, with no idea of what he looked like, unknowing where he could be, Harry felt a shiver run through his spine.

“Why would he try a stunt like this if he didn’t know what he was looking for? I don’t get it.” Harry shook his head as they kept walking, scanning the faces of every person and looking in every corner possible.

Louis shrugged, “not sure.”

They kept walking through the town, and not one person looked the slightest bit like Zayn.

“Maybe we should split up?” Harry asked after another few streets, making Louis stop abruptly.

“Are you insane?” Louis looked at him quizzically, “do you not watch investigation shows?”

Harry folded his bottom lip and shook his head. Wondering if maybe he should start watching them.

He sighed and began to explain, “they always say ‘let’s split up, we’ll find the person better that way’ then, bam! One of them’s dead and the other one can’t save them. It’s pretty much the most stupid idea ever.”

“Oh.”

The darker it got, the sorer their feet were. But they didn’t stop looking. They went into shops, asked the locals, checked alley ways and under steps. Harry started to have an anxiety attack, there wasn’t Zayn.

What if he had moved away? What if he didn’t want anything to do with him? What if being attacked by Brian was the last straw, and Zayn just had to get up and leave? Without saying good-bye?

Harry sat on the edge of the pavement with a sigh; he brought his knees up and placed his head between them. He felt Louis sit down next to him, and un-expectantly felt Louis’ hand touch his back. Harry looked at him and Louis gave him a comforting smile.

“He’ll be okay. Zayn’s stronger than he looks.”

“You must know him really well, huh?”

Harry’s always been jealous of Louis. He’s never been pushed away from Zayn, never been toyed or played by him. He’s his best friend, he didn’t hide from Louis, and he’s probably told him _everything_. But with Harry, it’s hard to get a single fact out.

Louis smiled softly with a nod, “yeah, when your friends with somebody for that long you learn a thing or two.”

Harry stayed silent for a while. He looked out to the sunset and flowing water, then back at Louis.

“It must be nice. Knowing that you’re the only person Zayn hasn’t pushed away.”

But with that, Louis scoffed. “What do you mean? Of course he has!”

Harry sat up right and looked at him strangely, “what? But-”

“Well, he _tried_ to push me away. But in the end the fucker stopped trying,” Louis laughed. “But trust me, if I had let it happen we wouldn’t be sat here right now looking for him.”

And at that last sentence, Harry began to chew his nails.

“What if we don’t find him?”

Louis’ hand, the one that was on his back the whole time, began to move up and down, stroking his back lightly.

“Don’t worry, Haz. We will.”

——~**~——

 


	13. Zayn's P.O.V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this guys :))

There was no way Zayn was going outside ever again. The air was cold, his bones were brittle, and the people out there make him not want to be on the same planet as them. Truth is, you can’t trust a soul. The majority of people out there will destroy you. Zayn was just oblivious to know that beforehand.

_”Zayn told me to just walk away, so I did. I guess they just caught up.”_

Stupid, stupid Zayn. If he had just kept his mouth shut, Harry would’ve gladly defended himself, and he should’ve. Because it was self-defence and the only person in the wrong was Brian.

If Zayn kept his mouth shut, Harry wouldn’t be hurt, Zayn wouldn’t have felt bad, he wouldn’t have gone for a walk, and we would never have met _him_.

His skin still ached. His ribs were sore and it hurt to breathe. He hasn’t even looked at his face, but from what his hands could feel, it was sensitive to even touch it.

His phone had run out of battery as soon as he came home that night, it died as soon as someone called, but Zayn managed to look who it was before the screen turned black. Harry called him, and Zayn couldn’t reply. He had staggered home, spent the night on his living room floor, since that’s the furthest he could go before he passed out from all the pain. He eventually moved into his room, after great deals of pain from his abdomen and arms, and found his charger.

When he woke that next morning, his phone buzzed like crazy. But instead of his injuries getting better, they only became more sufferable. But what was he supposed to do? How can he call someone if he couldn’t even move?

The sounds of the calls were daunting; he wanted so badly to reach up from the floor to answer it. But even stretching that muscle made Zayn scream out in pain and crawl up in a ball.

So he stayed there, for two days.

On the third day, he could walk. He managed to lift up from the wall enough so he could stand, and finally picked up his phone.

24 missed calls  
16 messages

There were 2 missed calls and one message from his mum, 2 missed calls and 6 messages from Louis, and 20 missed calls and 10 messages from Harry.

Looking at them, wide-eyed, he read Harry’s texts first.

_Where are you??? You alright? I love youuuu xxx_

_Why the no show at school?? Is everything okay? I kinda miss you :(_

_Are you mad at me?? What’s going on? Even Louis isn’t talking to me…_

_It’s been three days! Where are you! Answer please!_

Zayn sent back a simple message, making sure he didn’t scare him:

_I’m all good babe, I’ll see you soon x_

Louis’ texts were much the same as Harry’s, but with more insults and expressive language. Instead of a calm response, Zayn pleaded for help:

_Louis please come over and bring some help. Something’s happened_

He locked his phone and took his time walking over to his kitchen. The tiles were colder than he remembered, and everywhere he touched on his own body turned to pain. It felt like he couldn’t do _anything_.

He grabbed food that was lower to the ground, since reaching up high for cupboards and cups seemed to make Zayn cry out in pain and spent numerous minutes calming down. He made himself a ham and cheese sandwich, and when his legs became too tired to walk anymore, he sat down, on the floor, and ate.

 _It’ll get better in time. Just a few bruises, doesn’t matter_.

Usually, he’d get help right away. He’d let people take care of him and stitch him back up, let him repair until he was 100% again. But this time, he knew he was stronger. If Harry can walk away with a few bruises and a sore lip, then so can Zayn.

~*~

Hours passed, and it was a constant bugging in his mind, asking himself what was taking Louis so long to get here. Lying on his bed, face up towards the ceiling was the most comfortable spot for him to be at. It felt like his spine was lengthening out, and as long as he didn’t move - he didn’t hurt.

But a few hours? Really? After all those nagging text messages, Zayn’s phone hadn’t beeped once. Had they seen it? Was Louis even coming? Did Harry even care anymore? Did the text messages actually _send_?

Zayn pulled himself up again. His ribs, especially, hurt. He bit his lip to pass through the pain, and finally reached over to his phone. He scrolled through his messages and growled at the results.

“No service. Fucking great.”

He tried to re-send the messages again but all that showed was the red exclamation mark telling him that it was impossible.

He collapsed back down on his bed in the darkness. He could go back into the kitchen and call off the home phone, but Zayn’s body needed sleep. He could physically not move a muscle anymore.

And Zayn was scared to think that the damage was worse than he thought.

~*~

Another sunny day - maybe the fifth one - Zayn saw rise from his window as he was _still_ in his bed. He began to wonder whether the pain in his stomach was where the guy had kicked him, or if it was because he was hungry.

And as if on cue, his stomach growled.

 _That’s it_ , Zayn thought to himself, _You can’t stay here forever. Eat_.

As though it was an order from a qualified marshal, Zayn rolled over. His arms, chest, back, hips, all hurt when he moved, but Zayn suppressed it as well as he could. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed carefully, and stood up. He crouched as he walked; it hurt to stretch even more than before.

He didn’t even bother turning on the lights anymore. Because once he opened the fridge, there was enough light to fill the room. This time round, all he could manage to get was a glass of water. He didn’t even realise how dry his throat had gotten until it hurt, even drinking water seemed like a chore.

A familiar tone sounded in the next room, his phone started to buzz, and Zayn fell alert instantly. He pushed passed the pain, and reached out towards his phone.

“Fuck!”

In the darkness, Zayn hadn’t seen the door stopper that his mum bought, which caught underneath one of his feet. He fell, but was lucky enough to grab his phone in the same second.

A mixture of pain and shock shot through his body like an electric charge when he crashed onto the floor. It was excruciating, but Zayn bypassed it in order to answer.

“Hello?”

But of course, there was no response.

“Hello?” Zayn said again, hoping that he just wasn’t loud enough - even though he couldn’t hear anything on the other line anyway.

He brought the phone back away from his face and looked at his screen. ‘Searching…’ It said, where 5 bars are usually placed.

Why did his dad have to sign up to the shittest phone company in the state?

Hoping that it’d distract him from the painfulness that started to grow and grow, he checked to see who it was that called him.

Louis (5) missed calls

“Fuck.” Zayn repeated, giving up and resting his head on the floor.

~*~

Zayn’s running, his breathing and heart rate sped up, but his feet started to slow. He’s constantly checking behind him now, fear crossing his eyes as he continued to run.

But _he’s_ faster. _He_ is catching up to Zayn, screaming out behind him.

“You’re dead meat, son! Don’t even try runnin’!”

Zayn already knows this is a bad idea. How’d he even find him anyway? But if this was the guy who hurt Louis’ mum, then she’s lucky to even be walking.

He’s about 6ft tall, more muscle than the guy off ‘Rocky’, and has a beard that covers the lower part of his face. He’s speeding up now, one leg in front of the other. Zayn doesn’t know how much longer it’ll take. Maybe if he had taken Harry’s advice and stuck to it, Zayn could’ve out run him. But no, he had to go and smoke.

“Don’t fuckin’ move another inch, you’re fuckin’ dead!”

Zayn’s out of breath now. But _he’s_ closer. He feels two stern hands take a hold of his shoulders to spin him around. Face-to-face, Zayn takes in the features of his murderer.

He spits, right on Zayn’s shoes. Knocks him over on the concrete and Zayn swears he’s already heard a bone crack in his body. _He’s_ closing the distance now, laying in his first punch…

~*~

Waking up in a cold sweat wasn’t something he was used to.

He almost saw it coming. Zayn’s body on the floor, the bigger man on top of him. The rest of it was a blur to Zayn, the only thing he could remember was how much it hurt before he was knocked out.

Becoming conscious again was probably the worst part, because that’s when all the pain caught up to him. Flashbacks of it returned to Zayn’s mind. He’d rather picture it again while he was awake, since remembering it in a vivid nightmare made him scared to even walk outside again.

He turned his head as he still lay on the floor. He woke up his phone and checked the time: 10:16am Thursday.

Thursday? It’s really been a week and three days since that night? Since he’s seen Louis and Harry?

They really don’t care, then. Harry, sure, Zayn saw that one coming. But Louis? He’d come over all the time, even when he was grounded. He was the one who forced himself into Zayn’s life and tried the hardest to stay there. What’s stopping him now?

Zayn let out a groan, and massaged his temples with his fingers. His bruises had softened now, and Zayn could actually move his legs without them hurting. His arms were getting there; they were able to stretch out, but not too much. He flexed every muscle, from his toes, up to his hips. He let out a whine, those weren’t getting better. His limbs were fine; it was just his abdomen now. His chest, stomach, hips. Sometimes it’d even hurt to breathe.

His face didn’t hurt anymore. If he was honest, it only hurt the first few nights. One of his eyes remained closed, since it was way too heavy to lift open, but the other one had full view. His busted lip had sealed over, but Zayn could still taste the dried blood whenever he swiped his tongue on it.

He knew how he felt, but that’s a whole lot different to how he looked. Staggering into the bathroom, he turned on the light - since it was the only room that had a small window that didn’t let in enough sun - and gaped when he saw his reflection. He was pale, which didn’t suit the olive skin he once had, and he was weak. You could see it visibly, the scars, bruises. And that was just on his face. He touched the outlines of his bruises delicately with the tips of his fingers and tested the sensitivity of them all. Three of them didn’t hurt too much, only a little bit when he pressed the middle of it, but the ones of the sides of his jaw and above his left eyebrow were untouchable. His lip was getting better, there was only a small cut there now, no blood. The back of his head thumped, like the pulse was right there in his brain, pumping louder and louder the more he took notice of it. He already knew how much it hurt there; he didn’t even try to test that.

Next, he rolled up his sleeves. Gentle enough to only graze the surface of hurting, and revealed all the injuries on each arm.

“Fuck,” he breathed, noticing how badly this guy must have pounded into him.

The bruises were turning green, and he couldn’t bring himself to test the boundaries of them. So he rolled up the bottom of his shirt, showing the mammoth bruise that made him crouch over whenever he walked. It covered over half of his stomach; the most definite parts were underneath his ribs. When he turned around, his eyes still on the mirror, he cringed. A big, black mark spread over his lower back. There were curvy red dints scattered in different spots, resembling something like the front of a shoe.

Zayn sighed, and took off his top completely to inspect himself. From what he could see by craning his neck enough to get a good view of his back, the marks didn’t stop. Up his spine, there were trails of bruises and red patterns all the way up to his neck. If Zayn didn’t know any better, he could’ve been attacked by a gang.

After speculating the damages, he took another look at his face and realised how dirty it had gotten. Half-way through washing it, he gave up and decided to have a shower instead. Maybe that’d soothe the pain a little more.

He turned on the light in his room, grabbed some towels, and started running the taps until it reached a warm temperature. It took a few seconds before Zayn could get used to it, since his skin had become twice as sensitive, and everywhere the water touched, hurt. But he tried his best to wash it, pressing over the damaged parts of his skin lightly with the soap, and washed it off by letting the water rinse over it.

He didn’t know how long he was in there for, but it could’ve been longer if the water didn’t turn cold.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and heard something coming from outside. He knew that the door was locked anyway, so the fear that initially went through his mind stopped. He took one more look at his face and frowned, there’s no way he’d be arriving to school like that, and his teachers would probably have to kick him out anyway.

He picked up another towel to dry his hair as soon as his stomach began to rumble. It shocked him when he realised how long it’d been since he actually had something to eat, and started to walk to the kitchen, since he could actually walk now.

But on the way there, he heard that commotion again. This time, louder. He walked over the end of the corridor so he could see his front door, just as it got kicked down.

“What the hell?”

The figure, or figures, that where behind it weren’t threatening. It took a while for them to look back up to where Zayn was standing, still drying his hair. One of them, looked gobsmacked at the other, the one who had probably kicked down the door. The other one looked up, meeting eyes with Zayn.

“What the _hell_?” He repeated, louder so they could hear them.

They remained silent. Zayn didn’t know whether they were just frozen at the fact that they just _kicked down his door_ , or because they didn’t know what to say.

But eventually Zayn just shook his head in disbelief, because who else would even attempt that but Louis and Harry.

——~**~——

 


	14. Harry's P.O.V

“Don’t worry, Haz.” Louis brought Harry into his shoulder, “We will.”

They stayed like that for a while; the two people that cared most for somebody came together and feared for the worst in silence. But Harry didn’t want to live in fear, he didn’t want to leave the last chapter open ended, not knowing where Zayn was or what happened. Because if he doesn’t show up, then Harry would feel useless. He’d feel torn and worthless because it’d be like he hasn’t even tried.

So Harry lifted his head up from Louis shoulder and took in a deep breath. He watched the sky that was once blue turn into a colour of red, and stood up with ease. Louis looked at him sceptically, questioning his next move.

Harry held out his hand to him and shrugged, “Well we know he’s not here.” Louis took his hand and Harry helped him up. “So where else should we look?”

Louis looked around, as though he was searching for answers.

“Let’s go back to his house.” He said after a while, unsure of his answer. But when he looked back at Harry, who was frowning, Louis smiled positively and nodded to himself.

“But you said-“

“So?” He shrugged, “He might have come back.” Louis began walking again and Harry caught up, “besides, even if he’s still not there, he could’ve left a clue or something. He wouldn’t just _leave_.”

Harry shrugged again, dragging his feet as he walked. Louis just thought it was because he was getting tired, but unknowingly to him, Harry was losing hope.

“He could’ve.”

And Harry heard Louis’ breathing stop for a second. He watched him as his blue eyes drifted up sternly, watching nothing but the view in front of him. His jaw tightened, and his hands in the pockets of his jackets clenched. Harry didn’t know why Louis seemed so agitated from his statement, and was hesitant to ask why.

Because he _could’ve_ just left. And as much as Harry hated the thought of that, Louis seemed to hate it double the amount. Harry watched his eyes, they were intense, and if Harry wasn’t there beside him, he swore Louis could’ve done something like cry.

But after another few long minutes of silence, Harry couldn’t help but say _something_. It felt weird being quiet with Louis. He’s the loudest person he’s met.

“Sorry…” He faded off. Not knowing what else to follow that up with.

But Louis seemed to relax. He let out a deep sigh and looked at Harry. He gave him a small smile, then went back into his normal state.

“S’not your fault. Just a bit edgy at the moment I guess.”

Harry nodded, “I can relate to that.”

They fell silent again, but it wasn’t tense like it was before. The only sound was the clapping of their shoes on the ground, since the town fell dead once it began to turn dark.

Louis found a thick, small rock on the ground, and began to kick it with every step. Harry knew he was great at soccer, Zayn’s told him.

“You know,” Louis began, “I don’t think you realise this, but I’ve never seen Zayn like _this_ before. Like, ever.”

Harry frowned, and slowed his pace so Louis and his kicking rock could keep up. “What do you mean?”

“Well, for starters,” he held his breath for a few seconds when he thought his rock was going to fall down the drain, and exhaled when he kicked it back up and knew it was safe again, “he would always put the plans me and him made before him and Perrie’s. But with you, you’re top priority now.”

Harry couldn’t help but smirk a little. He laughed, “Sorry.”

“Nah, in all seriousness I think it’s good for him. Oh, and the second thing,” he kicked the rock a little too hard, and it fell off the deck. He let out a grunt and shook his head in disappointment, but then stopped walking and looked Harry in the eyes, “he actually _attempted_ to quit smoking for you. Like I’m telling you that is _huge_.”

“I didn’t even want him to do that, I knew it’d be hard for him.” Harry stated, still confused.

“Yeah, exactly. You didn’t even ask him to but he still did it, for you.” Louis patted him on the shoulder to keep on walking, “and finally, the third thing is this.”

Harry waited for Louis to continue, but that’s all he ended with. “…This?”

“Yeah,” he said, gesturing out to the town, “ _this_. He would never have skipped school for this long and not have told me. Like I’m not saying this is your fault, I’m just saying that he’s so caught up with you that _this_ is what happens.”

Harry sighed, “Louis, that kind of is blaming me.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then mumbled, “Oh.”

But Harry did know where he was coming from, in a sense. Louis wasn’t very good at explaining things but Harry knew what he meant. But Louis didn’t know that, so he kept talking. Probably so he could justify himself and make sure Harry didn’t feel bad.

“Also, he has this kind of ‘secretive’ sense about him almost, do you get that? And he has millions of things chewing at his brain at once; you can sometimes see it, actually. His face goes all serious and it’s like he’s plotting someone’s death, but really he’s just thinking a shit load.” He paused, turned a corner, then began again, “and he never shows his emotions often. But with you, it’s like he wants to scream that he’s in love but he can’t. And I think he was on the verge of screaming…” His voice went quiet, almost at a mumble, “Until Brian.”

Harry felt a shiver run through his spine. Fucking Brian. Mother _fucking_ Brian. If he had just fucked off and left them alone then Harry and Zayn could be together right now, Zayn would be happy. Not lost.

“What’s the deal with Brian, anyway?” Harry asked him, changing the subject subtly since talking about Zayn the whole time only itched him more.

“Mm, what do you mean?” Louis bit his lip. Harry knew he was hiding something.

“Well, you mentioned something about camp… And a secret? I think?”

In all honesty, Harry didn’t know what was going on half the time it was happening. He only talked when he heard Brian say something stupid, but mostly looked at Zayn’s face the whole time. He looked at how scared and fearful he seemed. How his eyes showed every placid emotion, how it demonstrated the fact that Zayn didn’t want to be there, didn’t want any of this. And when Zayn’s eyes widened, that’s when Harry knew he had to prevent Louis from getting hit.

“Oh,” Louis laughed nervously, “that.”

Harry waited patiently, and could see Louis as he fiddled with his fingers and blew air out of his mouth uncomfortably. But he seemed to work up the courage, and said the next sentence with a sudden burst of known confidence.

“Okay, so you know how I was telling you that I’ve experienced, like… Guys?”

Of course Harry remembered that. That was the moment that Harry knew he had to ‘try it or else he’ll never know’. Harry nodded.

“Yeah, well. Guess who that guy was.”

Harry’s mouth gaped wide. He didn’t have to think for another second to know that Louis was talking about Brian.

“Yeah,” Louis continued, nodding his head slowly, “and he threatened me not to tell anybody because obviously it’s a big deal to him. I don’t know, I think he’s gay… Because who’d get _that_ worked up over such a little kiss?” He shrugged, “I also guess that’s why he got so much joy over bagging out you two, because he was glad it wasn’t him.”

Harry took a moment to register what he’d just been told. And it had just hit him, how brave Louis actually was. They all knew how brutal Brian could be, he’s been in plenty of punch ons before and isn’t afraid to knock someone out. But Louis, being the _only one_ to know about Brian’s deep secret, stood up to make sure he stopped hurting Zayn. And Harry hoped that one day he’d earn that type of courage, just so he could show Zayn that he’d fight for him, even if it meant risking himself.

~*~

They walked down Zayn’s street, and their conversation hadn’t stopped flowing since they started. But even though Harry felt at ease with Louis and was easy to have a laugh with, he still couldn’t budge the terrifying thought that Harry had in his mind.

Zayn could be anywhere. And if he wasn’t in his house, where could he be? Was he safe? Was he hurt? Was he gone?

And as their footsteps approached nearer to Zayn’s house, Harry fell short of breath and stopped Louis mid-sentence - stopping him from walking, too.

“Wha-” Louis began, but then looked towards the area Harry was staring at.

A light, at the side of Zayn’s house, the side where Harry and Louis were facing, the side where Zayn’s bedroom and bathroom were placed, was on. He was there, he was home.

Harry started to run, and regardless of Louis’ protests, he kept running. They reached Zayn’s door, and before Louis caught up to him, Harry was already trying the doorbell that didn’t work. He then proceeded to knock as hard as he could numerous times.

“Sh!” Louis snapped, he battered Harry’s hand away viciously, “what if it’s not him? His mum might be home!”

“If it were his mum, why isn’t her car in the drive way?” Harry hissed back. He didn’t realise how hyped up he was getting.

But he didn’t stop knocking, he needed to see Zayn alive and breathing and he needed to hug him and hold him and tell him to never vanish again. So he knocked harder, and harder. But still, nobody answered the door, and no footsteps could be heard. What if he was unable to move, to walk? What if he was passed out on the floor?

Harry was getting impatient. After a few more knocks and a solid grunt of anger, Harry stepped back.

“No, Harry!” Louis tugged on Harry’s shoulders, but his body weight was too small to hold Harry back.

Harry’s arm rested across Louis’ chest for support, and with one swift movement, his leg flung up and kicked down the door.

Dust flew up into their faces and it took a while for it to clear. Harry could hardly see anything except for Louis, who was staring at Harry bewildered, as though he was some kind of maniac.

“What the hell?”

A familiar voice ran through Harry’s ears like a charm, but it wasn’t Louis. Once the dust cleared, Harry could see him. He was standing at the end of the short corridor, wearing nothing but a towel, still partially wet from a shower - which explains why he wasn’t answering the door, the one that Harry had just kicked down.

Harry froze, but as Zayn shook his head and _smiled_ , Harry felt like he could breathe again.

“Zayn,” he let out with a grin, and leaped over what the broken door had created, to someone that he hadn’t seen in what felt like a month. “Zayn.”

“Hey Harry,” he replied, smiling back at him. He seemed fine, he was happy, healthy and… _bruised_?

“What happened to you?!” Harry hissed through gritted teeth.

He was going in for a hug, but as he got closer he began to notice more and more bruises up and down his body. His face, his chest, his arms, the only place Harry could touch was his shoulders, so he used them to turn Zayn around. He inspected his back and gasped at the sight.

“Don’t be alarmed, Harry.” Zayn told him, his voice calm.

Louis was in now, he lent up against a wall that faced the two of them. Harry didn’t look at his expression, but Louis was staying silent.

“Don’t be alarmed? _Don’t_ be _alarmed_?” Harry could feel his eyebrows pull together, his blood start to pump through viciously, “Zayn, I thought you _vanished_ , I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me!” His voice raised and Zayn flinched, his body becoming more and more petite the longer Harry looked at him, “but when Louis told me that he hadn’t seen you either…” Harry let out a furious sigh; his hands ran through his hair, “do you know how _worried_ I was? Do you have any idea? And when I finally see you, you’re on the verge of broken, with bumps and bruises covering just about every inch of your body… And you tell me not to be _alarmed_?”

He looked at Louis now for the first time. He had his head down; his hands were behind his back that was lent up against the wall. His eyes were wondering around the floor, and his lip was getting bitten so much Harry swore he saw it bleed.

“Who was it?” Harry asked him, changing his voice to a harsh whisper.

But Zayn couldn’t respond straight away. Being on your own for more than a week, having somebody yell at you would take some time getting used to.

“Zayn,” Harry repeated, walking closer to him slowly, “who was it?”

He didn’t look him in the eye, but he answered. “I don’t know his name.”

And before Harry could say something with fury again, Louis cut in.

“It doesn’t matter who it was, right Zayn?” Louis looked up now, but he wasn’t asking for a reply. “All that really matters is that Zayn’s here now, and he isn’t going anywhere. Right?”

This time he was asking for an answer. Zayn nodded quickly.

“But there’s a fucking guy out there that bashed your best friend, doesn’t that make you want to track him down and throw him off the dock?” Harry snapped, and Zayn shuddered.

“No,” Louis replied quietly, “because the same thing happened to my mum, and that’s two people now. If we go out there looking for him, he’ll do the same to us. Then who else is gonna go? Liam and Niall? You wouldn’t want that, am I right?”

Of course he was. Louis was always fucking right.

“Good.” Louis nodded once, flashing Zayn a smart smile, “now let’s get you dressed, we have lots to talk about.”

He touched the back on Zayn’s shoulders to guide him down to his room, but Zayn flinched away, letting out a sharp groan through his teeth from the sudden pain.

“Oh,” Louis took his hand away quickly and looked at him apologetically, “sorry.”

They vanished into Zayn’s room and Harry stayed plastered against the wall across from it. He couldn’t get over the marks. The fact that somebody _put_ them there. On _purpose_. Made Harry want to throw up.

Next time Zayn goes _anywhere_ , Harry’s going to make sure he’s there, beside him, like a bodyguard. Because Zayn needs a protector, and Harry needs someone to take care of.

——~**~——

 


	15. Zayn's P.O.V

Harry stayed with him the whole night. Louis cooked them dinner and left after they ate, he was the only one that kept the conversation going and the only one that kept the positive mood. Once he left, all the dark stares and silence from Harry had become more definite than the sharp looks he gave Zayn all throughout dinner. He hadn’t said a word, and hardly touched his food.

But he decided to stay the night, regardless of the tense situation Zayn had found himself in. And Harry cleaned up the table as Zayn said good-bye to Louis, fist-pumping him since hugging was out of the question due to how sensitive Zayn’s skin was. Louis told him he’d pop around again tomorrow and Zayn nodded twice, hesitant to close the door once Louis left, since that meant it’d only be Zayn and Harry left. Zayn and cold, fearful Harry.

He was still silent when Zayn entered the room, and began to help Harry clear the table. He picked up the forks and knifes and reached over the table to collect his glass. But his elbow must have got in the way, because it knocked over the vase his mum had bought, spilling the flowers and water that was in it, right onto the carpet.

“Fuck.” Zayn mumbled, dropping the contents in his hands onto the table and quickly kneeled down to fix the spillage.

Harry walked into the room from the kitchen, saw the mess immediately, and held up one hand, “I’ll get that.”

He already exited the room before Zayn could protest, and then Harry came back with a roll of paper towel.

“It’s okay Harry, I can do it.”

“I will.” Harry told him, patting down the liquid with a bit of broken off paper, “go relax.”

“No, seriously it’s fine. I’ll-“

“Zayn,” Harry closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. Zayn looked back at him, confused. When Harry opened his eyes again, they weren’t looking at him. “Don’t.”

“…don’t what?”

“You’re hurt. Don’t try and pretend you’re not.”

Zayn scoffed, “yeah, I have a few bruises. Doesn’t mean I’m a fucking cripple. I can clean up my own mess.”

“I’m not saying that,” he sighed, and sat down, leaving the spill aside, “God, Zayn. Just please, lie down.”

Zayn stared at him, cautiously observing Harry’s face. He still wasn’t looking directly at him, and Zayn had a feeling it was because it hurt him to see the bruises on Zayn’s face. Which was fair enough, so he obeyed Harry’s orders and lied down on the couch.

It took a minute, maybe three, until Harry joined him again. He was still silent, sitting on the edge of the couch, the armrest of the side Zayn’s feet were. Zayn’s body was curved; his back against the back of the couch and his head leant on the opposite armrest. His arms curled up next to his chest, and his legs had to bend so they could fit. And even though he pretended to sleep, he kept one eye slightly opened, just so he could watch Harry scan up and down his ‘broken’ body. His lip was bitten, and in his eyes were a mixture of worry and disgust.

He hadn’t even _touched_ Zayn since their reunion. Only once, and that was only so harry could turn him around and inspect even more of the damage, which only made him gasp. If Zayn was honest, his bruises didn’t even hurt as much as they did anymore. Because nothing hurt more than the distance Harry kept from him.

“I’m not as fragile as you think.”

Zayn’s voice cracked and came out weaker than he expected, but it was enough for Harry’s eyes to flicker up to Zayn’s face, startled.

“Are you crazy?” Harry responded, shaking his head in disbelief, “I’ve never seen anybody this battered in my life.”

Of course he hadn’t. Because Harry had lived in this perfect, untouched world all his life. He’s been brought up in a loving home, an unbroken barrier of safety, and people to protect him everywhere he went. When Zayn was growing up, he didn’t have any of that. It was all, empty homes and cupboards, broken walls and limbs, scary people and shouted curses. His life was dark, the only person that made it that little bit better was Louis. But Harry’s the bright spark he needed to replace all the darkness, almost like the light at the end of a tunnel.

So Zayn just smiled, and wrapped his pulverised arms around the boy that he’s missed for so long.

“Zayn, don’t-“

“Sh,” he whispered, “doesn’t hurt.”

He felt Harry relax, then his arms were light around Zayn’s abdomen, squeezing ever so lightly, and Zayn felt his smile against his shoulder - the kind that made his stomach flip one thousand times over - and closed his eyes.

In his head, he pictured a world where only Harry and Zayn mattered, where nobody could say a word and whatever they did was up to them. A world where - no matter where they were, what they were doing - people would smile, nod their head approvingly, and walk passed without a subtle disgusted thought. Harry would hold Zayn’s hand in public, and for once Zayn wouldn’t flinch away. They’d laugh like a married couple, and Harry could kiss Zayn’s cheekbones, the ones that Harry always obsesses over, and nobody would call out disses or insults. A world where they could be themselves, wouldn’t have to hide, wouldn’t have to act differently. Where they could be _happy_.

And that’s when it hit him.

Zayn pulled away, looked Harry dead in the eye, and smiled. “I’m ready.”

~*~

The rest of the day was filled with cuddles and kisses, so distant yet so comforting all at once. Zayn was initiating all of it, and Harry would try to refrain from touching his delicate body, but would eventually give up and cuddle Zayn into his arms that little bit more.

Zayn’s head cradled into Harry’s neck, his long arms sheltered Zayn to his waist as his body lay underneath him, as Zayn curled up into a small ball on top, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent that used to linger on all of his clothes after a long day from being around him.

There wasn’t anything Zayn could hear besides Harry’s steady breathing and fast heartbeat. And occasionally Zayn would look up, to see Harry quickly shut his eyes, and Zayn would smile, return to his position and snuggle into his neck that little bit more.

After a few more minutes, Harry remained perfectly still, but the vibrations from his voice echoed through to Zayn’s body. “You know,” he began, whispering softly, his gravelly voice calming in Zayn’s ears, “I was admiring you long before we met.”

Zayn grinned as his heart sped up, “is that so?”

He looked up at Harry as he nodded, “I would watch you, in class and around school. I know that sounds stupid but you wouldn’t believe how interesting you are.”

Harry smiled down at him and Zayn reached up to kiss his lips softly. He reached down with his hand and found Harry’s, interlocking fingers automatically.

“I guess you would’ve thought differently of me after I attacked you,” he shook his head in disbelief, “I drank way too much that night.”

Harry let out a short laugh, “you were pretty strong for a drunk.”

“Oh God,” Zayn brought his palm to his forehead, “don’t remind me.”

“Hey,” Harry pecked his cheek and brought his hand down from his face and into his side carefully, “think of it as a good thing. I do.”

Zayn couldn’t help but laugh, “How? I threw you up against the wall and threatened to smash your head against the sink!” He shook his head, with a little smirk appearing at the corners of his mouth, “you should’ve seen your face though.”

“Did I look scared?”

“Petrified.”

This time, Harry laughed too. He planted a few kisses on top of Zayn’s lips, then delicately placed light ones on each of Zayn’s black, swollen marks on his face.

“But honestly,” he started again, his mouth only inches from his, and his breath started to tickle and his presence became the only thing he was aware of. “If you think about it, that was the first time we met. If I never had kissed ‘your girl’ then we wouldn’t be here right now, would we?”

His long fingers traced the insides of Zayn’s thighs, lightly going over the seam of his jeans, not breaking eye contact once.

Zayn smiled, and touched noses with Harry, “if Perrie found out that I was gay I reckon she’d have a heart attack.”

Harry smiled back, and his hand that was down near his jeans traced quickly up his t-shirt, to the back of his neck. “I hope that wasn’t the only thing preventing you from coming out.”

Zayn pushed him back a little; a playful smirk fell on his lips as he watched Harry submissively lay down for him, “I’m not that weak.”

It was dark outside, and the light in the living room was dim, but Zayn could still see how Harry looked at him, and could still feel how quickly the mood changed.

The stare between them was lethal, the thirst in Harry’s eyes wasn’t anything that Zayn had seen before, it was mixed with anger and desperation. The hottest kind.

He could feel the heat radiating off Harry’s body already, and Zayn’s left eyebrow cocked as Harry smirked up at him devilishly.

“C’mon, Malik.” Harry growled, pulling on the front of Zayn’s shirt with both hands, making his ear almost touch his mouth as he whispered, “show me how strong you are.”

Zayn felt the muscles in his body react, the sight of Harry there below him, eagerness in his eyes and the growl from the back of his throat, it closed up Zayn’s vocal cord and made him splutter something incoherent filled with mumbled noises and a breathless squeal. He sounded like a scared puppy, yelping with fear at the sight of something beautiful.

Zayn leaned down, trying his hardest not to put too much pressure on his broken, unbearable chest, and gave him a wet kiss underneath his jawline. He felt Harry’s hands cover his ass as Zayn continued to kiss and suck his skin. Luckily his butt hadn’t been touched by the feral man, or else he would be screaming and crying by now from the amount of squeezing and touching Harry’s hands had done to it.

“Zayn, I -” Harry started, but Zayn moved his mouth near his ear and a small moan interrupted his sentence, “I know you’re hurt but-”

“I don’t care,” Zayn responded, his hands now feeling down Harry’s long torso, “I just want you.”

“But…” His words slowly faded out to an in audible sigh when Zayn unbuttoned his top with a slight tug, and his hands roamed his body, down to his back, making Harry arch a little.

Harry’s pants were easy to get rid of, since they were a bit too big for him anyway, and Zayn’s eyes widened at the sight.

“Missed me a bit too much, maybe?”

His cock was fully erect. And Harry was now blushing slightly at Zayn’s comment. He had felt something against his thigh, but he didn’t think it’d be _that_ ready.

“Take it off,” Harry ordered, already leaning up to rip off Zayn’s jeans, “I wanna see how much you’ve missed _me_.”

So Zayn saved Harry’s fumbling fingers and took off his jeans, one pant at a time, and let his shirt fly off in the same direction he threw his jeans. But before Zayn could look back at Harry, he was already pouncing on him like a predator catching his prey. He pinned him back onto the couch, his eyes filled with need. His knees captivated Zayn’s waist, straddling him down like he was afraid to lose him, and kissed into his mouth harder than Zayn had expected.

His tongue reached around maniacally, and Zayn felt it hard to keep up. Harry’s hands were everywhere - Zayn’s hair, Zayn’s hands, Zayn’s waist - and even though it hurt more than anything, Zayn let Harry take control.

Harry kissed him. Once, twice, three times before he broke apart from his lips and bent down to his body. He kissed his chest - with the two small bruises that were starting to fade - then moved down to his stomach. He kissed everywhere, because the bruises were never-ending. The big ones on the front, starting to go green around the edges, and the purple ones that were black a few days ago, and the smaller ones on each side of his body. Harry kissed every single one of them, and Zayn started to notice that the moisture that fell onto his skin wasn’t Harry’s saliva, but tears.

Zayn lifted up Harry’s chin. His eyes were red and several streams of tears were already rolling down his cheeks. But Harry didn’t let him look for long; he placed his hands on either side of Zayn’s body and kissed him again, this time gentle, and didn’t stop until Zayn kissed him back with the same amount of pressure.

“I love you.” Harry whispered, and Zayn could hear the adulation in his voice, covered through tight sobs.

Zayn kissed him back with more force now, leaning forwards and pressing his hands against Harry’s arms. He laid him back down, never breaking contact from his lips until Zayn was on top once again. His back felt relieved from the pressure.

He broke away first, and instead of telling Harry that he loved him, he decided to show it to him first.

Reaching down in Harry’s pants he took a hold of him straight away, and as Harry always did, he let out a sound as soon as Zayn’s hand wrapped around it. His thumb brushed the tip, getting rid of any pre-come, and rubbed up and down a few times, quickly becoming used to it all too soon again.

He licked his lips and bowed down over him, wrapping his hot mouth around his cock. He felt Harry’s legs twitch from underneath him, and his hair became occupied with Harry’s fingers that dug into what felt like every strand. As much as he would have loved to, he couldn’t fit Harry all the way down, so his hand helped him, moving in the same rhythm as his mouth. He brought in his tongue, licking around it and bringing more heat to drive Harry crazy.

It didn’t take long for Harry to blow, since he was already near boiling point before Zayn had started, and Zayn swallowed every bit of it.

He kissed Harry’s nose once and snuggled into his side again after he finished himself off, and leant up to whisper in his ear softly:

“I love you too.”

——~**~——

 


	16. Louis' P.O.V

He looked terrible, from the moment that Louis first saw him - after Harry kicked the door down and Zayn was standing there - he knew something wasn’t straight as soon as he met Zayn’s eyes. They looked so distant, like something had gone wrong, and the smile he had flashed at Harry was misplaced, distorted. And when Louis walked closer towards him and saw his skin marked with bruises that Louis had recognised on his own mother, he already knew what’d happened before Harry got it out of Zayn.

“What happened to you?!” Harry had hissed, and Louis walked slower behind him, finding a space on the wall to lean on uncomfortably.

He knew Harry would be like this. As soon as it had registered in Louis’ mind that Zayn was utterly bashed, he _knew_ that Harry would react this way. But the timing was too short, and Louis had to cope with the realisation, too.

He couldn’t look at Zayn - it almost brought him to tears, the state that he was in - and he couldn’t look at Harry, the anger and destruction from his voice made Louis shy away. So he looked at his fingers, wishing that he’d been there for Zayn more than what he was, and he wished he had talked him out of tracking down his mum’s abuser. Maybe if he’d stayed the night with him instead of staying in his own bed… maybe if he had’ve helped him out instead of letting him have space.

“Don’t be alarmed, Harry.”

Zayn’s voice was calm, and Louis wondered how many times he’d seen Harry in a state like this. How many times he had to make him calm again. But it didn’t work, since the next thing Harry came out with went through Louis’ ears and out the other. The angry tone of voice slipped passed him; he heard his name being said a few times but missed the full sentence.

Louis placed his hands behind his back but continued to stare at the floor, and everywhere else except for the pair. He felt Harry’s eyes on him, and that made him aware that he was subconsciously biting his lip to the point where it was bleeding.

He paid attention to the next part, and actually looked at Harry as he stood closer to Zayn, his voice lowered.

“Zayn, who was it?”

Harry’s body seemed a lot bigger than Zayn’s; his head almost leaned down so he could look directly into Zayn’s feared eyes. Then Louis looked at his best friend, frail and weak, his bony skin looking like he was ready for deaths door any second. How long had it been since he ate? A few days? A few weeks?

Zayn’s eyes stayed on the floor. Louis didn’t blame him. From the state Harry was in, Louis’d reckon it’d be almost impossible to look at those green, harsh eyes.

And if you weren’t listening close enough, you would not have been able to hear it, or see Zayn’s lips move since he did it so slightly, but he responded in the quietest way possible. “I don’t know his name.”

Louis watched as Harry’s body language gave off the vibe that he was about to explode. About to say something else like, “what do you mean you don’t know?!” And Louis pitched in before Zayn could cop it any longer.

He told Harry that it doesn’t matter who it was, as long as he was alive. And after a short argument about tracking down the villain, Louis took Zayn aside, leaving Harry out in the corridor.

Once the door was closed, Louis stroked a piece of hair out of Zayn’s eyes and Zayn forced a crooked smile - the same one he showed Harry when they arrived at his doorstep.

“You alright?” Louis asked, his thumb brushed against Zayn’s cheek softly, making sure he didn’t touch a bruise by accident.

Zayn nodded weakly, “thanks for finding me.”

Louis broke into a smile and shook his head, “well I did call you like, eight times. Thanks for replying to my texts, by the way.”

“That wasn’t my fault! Look!” Zayn walked over to his bedside table and shoved his phone into Louis’ face, showing the screen of Louis’ texts and Zayn’s attempt message, which had the exclamation mark saying that it hadn’t sent through.

“Shit phone.”

Zayn rolled his eyes and tossed it onto his bed where it landed softly. “I couldn’t even move, Louis. It was terrible, you should’ve seen him!”

Louis could see the memories flood back into his mind, and Zayn’s eyes started to fill. He brought him into his chest carefully, and Zayn fell into him weakly.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Louis kissed the top of his head as he whispered, “shh, you’re home, it’s okay.” He continued to place kisses, and repeated the same words over and over, until Zayn fell silent again. Breathing into his chest, and Louis felt whole, having him safe and comfortable in his arms.

Zayn eventually looked up. The red and stress in his eyes wasn’t something he was used to, something he didn’t want to get used to, and Louis decided it’d be better to get his mind off things instead of moping about them. So he jumped on his bed and threw the clothes Zayn had laid out, and ordered Zayn to get dressed right away.

When he went into the bathroom to follow his commands, Louis stayed on the bed, flashing him a small smile and made sure it was believable enough. But if Zayn hadn’t left and Louis didn’t have a lot of strength, then he swore he could’ve cried, too. He could’ve cried when Harry mentioned that Zayn could have just gotten up and left, that there might be a chance of that actually happening. Because then that triggered the thoughts that lingered back in his mind, the ones that he pushed back for so long, that even though he hated to admit it - Zayn could’ve died.

The thought barrelled through him again, as he lay on Zayn’s bed. He cherished how he could still hear Zayn, could still talk to him, and could still listen to him. Because even though Zayn had thought the only reason why Louis tried so hard to not be pushed away was because he was persistent, the real reason was something more. It was because back in those little moments when they first met, when they were only little, he was pretty much the only kid that didn’t call him out, didn’t overpower him like the other boys did. And in the little times Louis caught Zayn, alone, even though they were both so young, Louis knew in his right mind that Zayn had a good heart. And his mother had always said to him that he should trust his instincts, which were telling him to never let this one go, so he didn’t.

“I’m done.” Zayn walked out, flashing an uncertain smile. Louis wanted to jump up and squeeze him tight, tell him how much he’s missed him. But then he took one look at his hurt face and remembered how badly it was damaged throughout his whole body and decided that wouldn’t be a good idea to squeeze him.

And as for the telling him how much he’s missed him part, well Louis had always been protective of his own emotions so he appeared strong. So he kept those feelings to himself for now.

~*~

“Dinner’s ready!” Louis called out to Harry and Zayn from the living room.

And although it was rude to say it, Louis had been thinking about it all throughout cooking. The long distance, the protracted silences, all added up to a dysfunctional relationship. But Louis knew what was going through both of their minds, he always did, they weren’t that hard to read… Well, Harry wasn’t, but if it weren’t for the amount of years Zayn and Louis had spent together, then Zayn would be harder to read then a Spanish textbook.

When Louis heated up the mac and cheese, Zayn came in to help, and insisted on grating some more cheese or adding some more water to the pot, but Louis just told him to sit and relax (and to have some conversation with Harry so it wouldn’t be awkward as fuck around the dinner table), and Zayn had no choice but to obey Louis’ commands, even though this was his own house.

When Louis toasted the grilled sandwiches, Harry came in and offered to bring out the plates and clean up around the kitchen, but Louis just told him to sit and relax (for the same reason he told Zayn), and Harry had no choice but to obey Louis’ commands, and join Zayn for yet another unspoken conversation.

Not a word was said from Harry for the rest of the night. He ate in silence, but kept his eyes fixed on Zayn the whole time. Louis tried to smoothen the mood out a little more and occupied Zayn in some small conversation. But although Zayn was laughing along and enjoying his food, Louis could see the uneasiness in his eyes, how uncomfortable he’d be with Harry’s glaring stare continuously on him. Even Louis felt uneasy with him there.

But Harry decided to stay anyway, and Louis began to feel as though it was because he was there, that Harry was acting so strange. Because he wanted his boyfriend to himself and Louis was just getting in the way.

At the door, he said good-bye to Zayn. And that feeling returned, the urge to lift him up and say how much he’s grateful that he’s here, in front of him. But, of course, they both knew that wasn’t going to happen. Especially with Harry intently watching at the end of the hallway.

So Louis made it quick, and told Zayn he’ll pop over again tomorrow and see how he’s holding up. He fist bumped him, something they used to do when they were in primary school, and Louis walked away as Zayn closed the door.

_”Hi!” He greets the small, tanned boy with confidence, something he’s always been able to do, with anyone._

_The boy looks up at him, but only for a few seconds, before returning back to his little doodles that were covering his notepad. They were cartoon figures, big heads and little bodies. They had capes, and symbols, and were labelled with superhero names. Two of the figures looked like they were partnered up, with the big monster on the other side of the page. In the middle of the two superheroes, the boy had drawn a pointy sided speech bubble with the word ‘ZAP!’ written inside of it._

_“That’s cool,” Louis points, dropping the backpack that’s too big for him besides the table where the boy was already sitting. “What are their names?”_

_The boy looks at him again, curious. He scans over his face and of course, already knows who Louis is. He glances back at his sketches, and Louis waits patiently, but the boy just shrugs and Louis starts to wonder whether his new partner is a mute or not._

_“Well,” he starts off again, shifting his position so his knees are practically digging into the kid’s thigh, “what’s_ your _name, then?”_

_He takes another while to reply, but Louis waits patiently yet again. And this time, he speaks._

_“Zayn.”_

_His voice is soft and uncertain, such a contrast to Louis’ - and there’s something about him that makes Louis smile._

_“That’s a sick name, I reckon. I’m Louis.”_

It was lucky the walk home was almost all undercover, or else the sudden rain would’ve covered Louis from head to toe. The steps up to his door were discoloured from the wetness, and Louis had to quicken his stride as he unlocked the door quickly, to escape the belting rain that became louder as he reached inside, the raindrops echoing off his tin roof.

_”It’s okay; it’s only rain, Malik.”_

_Louis taps Zayn’s shoulder from underneath the table, where he’s crouched in a ball, feared from the storm. The rest of the classmates are looking out the window, oohing and ahhing over the different strucks of lighting and thunder that echoed and shot through the sky. At first, Louis joined them, since he loved the sight of it, too. But when David laughed and pointed “look at the Paki, too ‘fraid of nature, aye?” Louis departed from the group and sat with Zayn under the table._

_“See? It’s okay, we’re safe in here.” Louis’ hand is light on Zayn’s shoulder, but as soon as those words were said, a massive crack of thunder hovered above their heads, making Zayn freak out even more. “Okay, maybe it’s not_ just _rain, but it still won’t hurt us! I promise, Malik.”_

_“But… Lou, it’s so…” Zayn’s eyes were filling with anxiousness as he clutches his knees to his chest even more, “loud… You know?”_

_“Yeah, it is.” Louis nods, then taps him on the shoulder once more, “but do you wanna see it? I mean, it might be scary at first but I’m telling you… It looks really cool.”_

_Zayn sniffs, and gives Louis a look, “you sure?”_

_And Louis nods, takes his hand, and promises him that everything’s going to be fine. And Zayn sits there, terrified at first, but after a while becomes amazed with how the lightning covers the whole sky for a few milliseconds, and then vanishes. He still flinches at the thunder, but once Louis squeezes his hand, he calms down and enjoys the show._

_“Lou?”_

_“Yeah, Zayner?” Louis responds, still watching out the window, his eyes shining._

_“Does this mean I overcame a fear?” He asks, still looking up at Louis, since Zayn’s sitting on a table while Louis is standing up next to him._

_This time, Louis looks back, and smiles. “Yeah, Zayn.”_

_Zayn smiles, too. And Louis notices how Zayn’s flinching began to stop after the storm became quieter, and although it wasn’t loud anymore, Zayn let go of Louis’ hand._

_“Thanks, Lou.”_

Louis took off his recently wet jacket as soon as he stepped inside and hung it on the coat rack to let it dry. He hadn’t realised how late it was, and assumed that everybody had gone to bed, since his mum had work early the next day.

He checked the time, 11:15pm. Jesus, what time did they have dinner then? 9’o clock? Nine-thirty? And it seemed to have been a trigger for his body clock, because he started to get droopy and his eyes began to become sore from keeping them open for so long. Searching for someone for half the day can only wear you out so much, and Louis wondered how Harry was coping.

With a slouch and dragged feet, he managed to pull himself up the staircase and into his room. He didn’t even bother going into the bathroom to do his usual routine. He didn’t even bother shutting his door. He just stripped off down to his boxers and climbed into bed.

And _just_ as he was about to doze off, his phone buzzed.

Louis looked at it with tightened eyes. It was the text that was supposed to send through days ago from Zayn’s phone. He must have just gotten signal then.

And for the sake of it, Louis opened the text. _Louis please come over and bring some help. Something’s happened._

Louis stared at it for quite some time, his mind puzzled over different ways of how he could’ve stopped it, how he could’ve prevented Zayn from leaving his house in the first place. Maybe if he hadn’t even told him about his mum? Maybe then he wouldn’t have gotten mad.

But then he’d be contradicting himself. Because he told Harry not to worry, that it was okay because at least _Zayn_ was okay, and _that’s_ all that matters. Which was right, which was absolutely right.

But during the time where he put his phone down and turned over to fall asleep again, Zayn’s crying words were all he could hear…

 _”I couldn’t even move, Louis. It was terrible, you should’ve seen him!”_ You _should’ve_ seen him. You _should’ve_ …

~*~

_Louis knocks on the door and rings the doorbell, bouncing on the tips of his toes like he did when he was a child. They were in high school, now, Zayn and him, and because they were growing up, Zayn also felt the need to grow apart._

_Zayn opens the door with a sigh, “I thought I told you I was grounded?”_

_“You did,” Louis smiles, then pushes passed him, “you filthy liar.”_

_“What?” Zayn mutters, more to himself but of course Louis heard. Zayn shuts the door with a grunt._

_“Saw your mum just before,” Louis starts, making himself comfortable on Zayn’s couch, propping his feet up, which were now bare, onto the coffee table, “asked me why I wasn’t with you.”_

_Zayn looks at him with a guilty expression, and sits down next to him, “and what’d you say?”_

_“I said ‘cause I thought he was grounded! And she said no he ain’t,” Louis picks up the pillow that was digging into his back, “so there,” the pillow gets thrown at Zayn’s head with a thud as Louis mutters, “lying douche lord.”_

_“Well,” Zayn readjusts his position and tosses the pillow to the chair across the other side of the room, slightly annoyed by Louis’ actions, “have you ever heard of personal space?”_

_Louis pulls a face, “yeah, I’ve heard of it. Total bull crap. Why be by yourself when you could be with me, aye?”_

_From there, Zayn’s head is jammed between Louis’ rib cage and Louis’ forearm. His other hand’s on top of Zayn’s head, his knuckles drilling in lightly. Louis lets out a laugh and releases him, thinking that he’s won once again._

_But as Louis lies back into the couch, Zayn pounces on him and locks Louis’ head in his arms, then takes his wrists and pulls them behind Louis’ head, laughing as he tries to squirm and escape._

_“Who’s winning now, eh?” Zayn holds the position for a few moments longer, then releases. Letting them both breathe out a sharp breath._

_And Louis smiles, looking at Zayn, because_ yes, he didn’t push me away _and now they’re play fighting at his house, and now Louis knows he’s done something good for both of them._

Louis woke up that morning, brushing his teeth straight away since he was already late for school and his mouth tasted like absolute ass. He threw on whatever he could find onto his body, planted a quick kiss upon his mum’s cheek, and exited through the door.

His bag tapped his bum whenever he walked, and his shoes made a sound on the drive way. It reminded him back to his first day at school, when his mother ran after him to fix up his collar and hair, and buttoned his top up to his neck, then flattered out the creases of his shirt.

_”Be careful on the way there, okay? I don’t want you talking to any strangers, and make sure you-“_

_“Look both ways before crossing the road,” Louis finishes for her, “and always be nice to people. I will, mum.”_

_“That’s my Louis.” She coos, and pecks him on the cheek twice before watching him turn the corner, his backpack ten times too big for him, and his leather shoes clapping down the street each time he took a step_.

On the bus, it was absolutely filled with students. He usually caught the earlier one, just so he didn’t have to suffer this rush. And for the mornings, it was especially loud, too. In primary school, Louis was friends with everyone, and always had a group around him on the bus.

_”Hey, Malik! Come sit with me!”_

But now, most of them just stare in their black outfits and dark eyes, the only nice people are fake, and the only genuine people are boring. Louis pretends to be friends with them; of course, he laughs along to their poor jokes, accepts their invitations to parties, and tells them that he’ll definitely love to do something on the weekend. But truth is, they’re all the people that Louis despises, because they’re fake, and too uptight, or too serious, or too self-absorbed. They’re not Liam, or Niall, or Harry. They’re not Zayn.

Louis takes a break from fake smiling too much. He sits back into a chair he managed to get, and closes his eyes for some extra sleep. The motion of the bus was soothing, but the conversations that floated around were not.

“Smoked pot for the first time, mate. Thought there was a fuckin’ unicorn outside my window, for real.”

“No, but, like. James will never notice me, like ever.”

“Oh my God, Maria. Don’t tell anyone but… David and I had sex on the weekend.”

“Fuck oath bro! I’ll smoke up with you next time, yeah?”

They all faded into one as Louis tried to zone them out. He remembered back to last year, when one school night Zayn slept over at his house, which meant he had to take the same bus to school. It wasn’t a good time for him, his parents had just had another falling out, and he wasn’t very comfortable with himself.

_”No, I’m serious, Lou.” Zayn looks at him desperately, keeping his voice down in case the other students heard him, “what if I end up like them? What if I - what if I never find someone, Lou?”_

_Louis just shakes his head and pats his knee, “you will. I promise.”_

_“But what if I don’t?”_

_As soon as Zayn looks at him with those big, brown eyes, suddenly filled with fear and angst, right at Louis - He knows that he’ll never forget that face in a million years. Because Louis has helped Zayn overcome his fears; storms, spiders, darkness, water. But he doesn’t know how to help him with his biggest fear: dying alone._

_“Hey,” Louis says softly, putting his arm around Zayn, “do you know what you are?”_

_“Pathetic.” Zayn responds with almost no pause. Louis hits him in the arm._

_“No, you idiot. You’re my best friend, which means; of course someone’s out there for you. I mean, you’re friends with me.”_

_This makes Zayn smile a little, “yeah but, that’s you. You’re guaranteed to get whoever you want, but who’s gonna want Mr. Sulky pants?”_

_Louis pretends to think about this. He puts a finger up to his chin and hums, his eyes drifting upwards as his eyebrows cross._

_“Mrs. Sulky pants?”_

_This time, Zayn hits Louis in the arm. “Honestly, Lou. Your jokes get worse by the day.”_

_Louis gasps, and pushes Zayn away lightly, pretending to be hurt. And Zayn laughs._

_“Well, I was just about to offer my proposal but you destroyed that chance didn’t you!”_

_This makes Zayn laugh louder, his eyes crinkling up like the first time Louis ever made him laugh. Then Zayn tucks his head into Louis’ shoulder just as the bus stops at a red light, and Zayn makes Louis put his arm around his shoulders again._

_“No, but,” Louis begins again, not pretending anymore, “I can honestly promise you, you’ll find somebody this year. Might not be forever, but there are so many girls here that would have to be absolutely delusional not to date you.”_

_Beneath him, he could see Zayn smile lightly. His head shifted upwards so he could look at Louis again, and Louis nods as though he was certifying his promise._

_“Thanks, Lou.”_

_And just like he said, a week later, came Perrie._

~*~

At the lockers, everyone had already made their way to their classes, since Louis came later than everyone else. It shouldn’t matter, though. The class he had was drama, and although Louis was a little shit in most of his classes and to most of his teachers, he and Mrs. Levi were good friends.

He threw in his bag and began to walk down the corridor, where a few more students began to appear. They took their time heading their way, and Louis almost shot them all down, he hated waiting for slow walkers to hurry the fuck up.

But before he said anything, he looked to his left. And there, against the wall down the opposite corridor, Zayn and Harry stood. Harry’s hand was entwined with Zayn’s, and they were smiling, in love. And there were _people_ around at _school_. Some stopped to stare, but majority of the kids took it in their stride and didn’t think much of it. Zayn pecked Harry’s nose and Harry started to giggle.

Zayn smiled, his eyes crinkling up in the most familiar way. And Louis found himself stopping and staring in absolute joy, happy that his promise to Zayn so many months ago had finally come true.

Harry was the first to meet eyes with Louis, he unwrapped his hand from Zayn’s to wave to him, and Zayn turned around to look at Louis, too. He was still bruised, of course, but he was getting better, Zayn could actually open his eyes fully now.

They both waved and smiled, and Louis grinned back, and then shouted something dirty which made them laugh. But Louis couldn’t be happier, because in a way, he’d seen this spark from the very start, and in a way, without properly knowing it - he’s the one who brought them together.

Louis smiled, happy with himself, and walked to class in joy.

——~**~——

 


	17. Harry's P.O.V

Everything was set - the speech, the introduction, the explanation, the preparation - and Harry was feeling confident, because this is what he _wanted_ , and there’s no point in hiding it now. His mother would be home soon, and she’d always be in a good mood so that was a plus. And his dad won’t be home for another week, which meant that Harry could wait a little longer until he faced him.

But even though his mum is one of the most accepting and one of the kindest people Harry’s ever known, she had also known him as the kind of guy that charms every woman in sight - not man.

So Harry takes in a deep breath, goes over his speech one last time, and boils the kettle when he hears the car pull into the driveway. He braced himself, the nerves and fear shot through his body like a venom bullet, but he proceeded with his plan and greeted his mum with a kiss like normal.

She returned the kiss and dunked her bags at the doorway to give Harry a proper hug. After examining his face with her two hands, a frown appeared on her forehead.

“Baby, what’s wrong? You looked stressed.”

“Why don’t we have a cup of tea first?”

Harry poured the hot water in two ceramic cups, and handed one to his mum, who looked more startled then she should be. He took in a deeper breath, and began to recite the speech he rehearsed so many times in front of the mirror.

“Mum,” he set his cup down on the table as she listened intently, and Harry could practically feel his stomach shrivel, “I want you to know that this isn’t very easy for me to tell you this… But I’ve been thinking about it for a long time now and I-”

“Oh my God, you’re dying?!” Her face suddenly filled with worry as she stood up from her chair, and Harry had to ease her back down.

“No, no.” He sighed, then decided to screw the speech, “do you remember my friend from school? Zayn?”

“Oh yes, handsome young man with gorgeous eyelashes.”

“Ah - yeah, well. Zayn and I we’re… You know, together.”

“What? You mean like-”

“Yeah, mum.”

“You’re gay?”

Harry couldn’t respond. Instead he just nodded and held his breath. It’s out, it’s all out. There’s no going back now.

“And he… Makes you happy?”

He still couldn’t form words. He nodded his head again in anticipation, praying that her reaction would be a good one.

“Oh, my little baby.” She smiled, and wrapped her arms around him tightly, “I’m glad you’re happy.”

And Harry smiled, and cried. The tears from his eyes were from happiness, and his mother wiped them away from his eyes and told him that it’s okay.

~*~

“They were okay with it?” Niall asked him as they were sitting on his bed, a bag of Doritos in his hand.

“Well, _she_ was okay with it. I haven’t told dad yet.”

“My advice is you don’t tell ‘im. Not now, not ever. That way you’re safe and you don’t get lookin’ like your boyfriend.”

Zayn and Liam were downstairs, watching some movie that contained something like superheroes and cartoon characters. Something that Harry and Niall could pass up.

“Hey, he’s getting better. If you haven’t noticed.” Harry commented, reaching in for a Dorito before Niall snatched the packet away.

“Get your own food.”

“Piss off, I bought them!”

“Then you should have bought two then, ey?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have bought them at all, you-”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Liam entered the door, bracing his arms out with a small smile.

Niall muttered something about needing to get a drink, anyway. And Harry began to munch on the contents that Niall left behind, as Liam replaced Niall’s spot on the bed. He leaned back onto the bed head and rested his hands behind his neck, then stretched his masculine legs out, his feet just dangling off the edge of the bed.

“Please,” Harry mumbled sarcastically, “make yourself comfortable.”

Liam smiled vaguely, “do you remember when you came to my doorstep crying because ‘Gemma stole my Discman and won’t give it back!’?”

Harry scoffed, then threw the empty Doritos packet off the bed and lied down next to Liam, “that was in grade five, okay. Give me a break.”

“Yeah, but. Do you also remember how I let you stay at my house for about three days because you couldn’t stand the thought of being in the same house as your sister?”

Harry looked up at the roof and nodded, “yeah, I do remember.”

Liam let out a short laugh, deeper than Zayn’s. “I miss those days.”

Harry laughed, too. But for a different reason, “okay, Mr. Soppy. Don’t get all emotional, these are new pillows.”

Liam pulled a face, “you’ve been hanging out with Louis too much. You’re too sarcastic for your own good.”

“Am not!”

“Am too.” Liam grinned, and poked the side of Harry’s face, where his dimples would usually show.

Harry poked him back, but in his middle section. And Liam got him again ten times harder, poking in every direction on Harry’s body. His chest, his stomach, his back, his face. And it all led up to Harry cackling himself, rolling around in his bed pleading for Liam to stop as Harry’s eyes leaked water from laughing so hard.

“Stealing my man, are we?”

Zayn leant up against the doorway, his arms loosely crossed over, so were his ankles. His mouth had a slight smirk, and his eyes were playful, but almost bored. Liam stopped, his hands relaxed on Harry’s stomach, but Harry was still trying to recover from the outburst of laughter.

“You can join if you want,” Harry managed to choke out, trying to sound suggestive but failing.

Zayn let out a laugh, “I’ll pass. I’m not ticklish anyway.”

Harry scoffed dramatically, “well _that’s_ the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

“But I’m not.”

“Oh,” Harry lifted up one side of his mouth playfully as he edged forwards, “but you are.”

And just as his fingers extended to tickle Zayn’s stomach, Zayn flinched away, shaking his head and wagging his finger in front of Harry’s hand.

“Nah uh uh!” He crossed his arms over again, “I’m hurt, remember?”

Harry sat back down and pouted, “what happened to ‘it’s only a few bruises, I’ll be fine’?”

“I was lying.”

“Ha!” Harry pointed his finger towards him, his eyebrows raised, “knew it!”

“Of course he was lying, you idiot.” Liam pitched in, a smile still on his face. And to get up off the bed, he used Harry’s face as leverage, pushing his hand down onto it harder than what he probably needed, making Harry’s face sink into the pillow.

“Get off me you dick!” Harry squirmed, and threw his big hand off his face. Liam exited the room still laughing.

And when Harry looked back at Zayn, he was smiling. There was something in his eyes that Harry couldn’t quite catch. Was it joy? Pride? Satisfaction? Whatever it was, it made Harry smile, too. Zayn always made him smile.

“It was really brave of you to do that.” He commented, remaining in his position.

And although Harry knew exactly what he was talking about, he decided to smirk and try and say something funny.

“What, pushing Liam off and calling him a dick? I do that all the time.”

And instead of a laugh, Zayn just shook his head with the permanent smile, and sat down next to Harry on the bed, taking his hand automatically.

“No, babe. Telling your mum.”

Harry could see the twinkle in Zayn’s eye now, the kind that makes Harry’s insides flutter and brain fuzzy.

“You should do it.” He played with Zayn’s fingers, then looked up to meet his gaze again, “you should tell yours.”

And with a defeated sigh, Zayn deflated into Harry’s chest, his head rested against his shoulder. “I can’t.”

“Don’t be stupid. Yes, you can.” Harry’s voice was a whisper now, his fingers softly played with the black strands on Zayn’s head. The one that started to shake from side to side.

“That would be impossible, Harry. Your mum isn’t like mine.”

It was then, that Harry realised Zayn didn’t really talk much about his home life with him. He had said that his parents were hardly home anymore, and that they were spilt up. But he hadn’t heard anything other than that. What they were like, the memories he had with them when he was growing up, the fun times they had. Nothing.

Harry rested his chin on top of Zayn’s head, and his voice came out like a soft purr. “Why don’t you ever talk about them?”

“Because there’s nothing to say.”

That was a lie. Harry knew it. He knew it in the way that Zayn had said it so fast, like it was rehearsed. He knew it in the way his voice wasn’t normal, it was plain, lifeless. And he knew it in the way that of _course_ there’s something to say. There’s always something to say about your own family.

“Zayn.” Harry’s voice was almost inaudible, cracking slightly at a few words, at the sudden realisation he’d come across. “I hardly know anything about you.”

And that was true.

Of course, Harry _knew_ him. He knew how Zayn liked to listen to rNb in the car, and how he always prefers to ride on the left hand side if he was in the back. How he can sleep through anything, even if there was a fire and fifty alarms were going off at once. Harry knew that Zayn liked to sketch, liked to draw anything that came to his head, and he was damn good at it. How it takes forever and a day to let someone in, but once he does he keeps them there for life. He knows that Zayn is loyal, intelligent, and kind.

He knows about the little things, like how he likes his tea, how he likes his pillow, and how he likes his hair. He knows about his secret draw where he keeps all of his comic books, and how he didn’t let Perrie near any of them at all. But he let Harry read through them, because he trusted his hands.

Harry knows that Zayn’s eyes are brown, but in a certain light they’re purple, with a touch of gold. He knows every single one of his tattoos, and could pick out the exact spot in which they’re placed from the top of his head without looking. He knows his shoe size, where he’d rather be, his hopes and dreams. He knows the brand of gel he uses, his favourite dessert, his aspirations.

Harry knows Zayn. But he doesn’t know anything _about_ him. His past, what he’s been through. And Harry feels as though that’s vital to know - because his past makes him who he is today. And that’s important.

But he let it go, because obviously Zayn’s childhood isn’t open for discussion. It doesn’t escape Harry’s mind, though. It’s been locked in for later.

~*~

“So, when did this start? How long have you been together for?”

His mum was cooking dinner; her back faced Harry as he sat on one of the stools. The topic of Harry’s new relationship seemed to be the only thing on his mums mind. And Harry wondered how she’ll ever be able to keep her mouth shut once his dad comes home.

“I’m not sure actually,” Harry responded, picking off the skin from his orange, “that’s a good question.”

“What? But how will you celebrate your anniversary if you don’t know the date?”

Harry just shrugged, “everyday should be an anniversary.”

His mum turned around to squeeze her son’s cheeks, pouting at him as she muttered soothing words as though he were a baby again.

“Well, he’s lucky to have you!” She chirped, then began to place the chicken in the oven.

Harry ate his orange slowly, then halfway through decided he didn’t like it, and tossed it aside. After picking it out of his teeth for a few seconds, he turned to his mum for advice.

“Is it bad if… your partner doesn’t tell you anything about their past? Like their family life - that sort of thing?”

“Why, is Zayn very closed off?” She asked, checking the cupboard for some more ingredients.

“Yeah, a little bit.” He told her about how he tried to ask Zayn about it and how he responded, and his mum frowned.

“Sounds like it’s something very personal. Or, something might have happened that was too traumatic, and he doesn’t want to remind himself of it. Or, you know, he could’ve just pushed all those memories far away.” She told him, nodding, “Yeah, I have a few friends like that. They don’t like to reveal much.”

“Doesn’t that frustrate you, though?” Harry’s back was straight, leaning forwards slightly over the kitchen bench, “not knowing?”

His mum turned down the dial of the stove where a boiling pot of water sat, and walked towards Harry calmly. She took both his hands and overlapped them with her own. She waited until Harry’s stressed eyes met her own until she started talking.

“Harry. If there’s anything I’ve taught you it’s not to pry. You and Zayn are very happy, yes? I’m sure, when the time’s right; Zayn will tell you every single thing there is to know about him. But for now,” she pecked Harry’s nose lightly and smiled, “let’s not worry too much, hm?”

And all Harry could do was return the smile and nod. Because of course his mother was right. When the time comes, Harry will now everything he needed to know. And that’s okay.

~*~

And one night, after a filling dinner and some tea that Zayn had offered to make, they sat in front of Harry’s fire, cosy and warm in each other’s arms, Zayn claiming that his skin had become stronger and could definitely withheld the pain threshold of Harry holding him. At first, they sat in silence. And Harry had wondered whether Zayn had fallen asleep as his head leant against Harry’s chest limply, but the unsteady breathing and movement from his legs suggested otherwise.

“Harry?” Zayn had asked, his soft voice croaky, and his fingers brushed against Harry’s lightly, “What did you say? To your mum?”

Harry looked down at him, and saw that Zayn was already looking up, curiosity in his eyes. Harry took his hand and entwined his fingers with his own before he began.

“Well, I just said that basically, I was gay and in a relationship with you.”

Zayn shifted, and paused for a while. Harry could see him frown, “it was that easy?”

Curls bounced as Harry shook his head, “no, not at all. I planned and rehearsed my speech like, five hundred times. But when I came face to face with mum, I just told her and… Yeah.”

“Did she… Was she mad?” Zayn asked, his tone was a little more enforced now, not so weak.

“Nope, was pretty excited, actually. More about the fact that it was you, really.”

“Me?” Zayn’s eyebrows raised, and his head began to turn so he could have a better look at Harry.

“Yeah, she thinks you’re pretty good looking for your age and thinks you’re a good guy. And of course, I couldn’t argue with that.” Harry smiled, and kissed Zayn once on the lips.

But Zayn didn’t kiss him back. There wasn’t curiosity in his eyes anymore, there was something else. Something stronger. Something like _fear_.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked him, pressing his hands against Zayn’s, giving them a tight squeeze.

It took a while before Zayn could respond, his eyes were off in another world, his forehead had created a slight crease, and his hands weren’t squeezing back. His expression was like he had seen a ghost, no. Like he had seen the future. The true reality of coming out to his family, the worst case scenario.

Harry could almost pat himself on the back for finally figuring out what was going on in his boyfriends mind, but now’s not the time.

“W-what if he gets mad? What if he hits- what if he doesn’t…”

“Zayn, Zayn, Zayn,” Harry hushed, bringing his head into his arms, hugging him tightly, “I promise it won’t be as bad as you think, it’ll be fine; it’ll all be fine, I swear.”

And as he hugged him, Harry knew that he couldn’t promise that. Because Zayn’s dad was a man that Harry hadn’t even met before, and hadn’t even _heard_ of before. For all Harry knows, Zayn’s dad could be an abusive drunk who left his family when Zayn was twelve, or started a drug deal and is now in jail. With those thoughts in mind, and with Zayn’s cut of thoughts, “what if he hits-“, Harry starts to think that telling his own dad wouldn’t be that bad.

——~**~——

 


	18. Zayn's P.O.V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omfgf this is the last chapter holy crap! this is also the first chaptered fic that i've ever actually finished so praise me on that one haah :) aw this is so sad but thank you for reading it guys!! hope you liked it.

“When I was little… I always used to go outside, down the street, to other people’s houses. Back then I didn’t know why, I thought it was just because I liked exploring, liked seeing other people, stuff like that.” Zayn began explaining, his hand wrapped around Harry’s. It was spontaneous, but Zayn had decided to tell him. Get it over and done with and just tell him. “But now, I realise that it’s because I can’t stand being at home or being with my mum and dad. I’m kind of glad that I don’t see any of them anymore - at all, really. If it weren’t for blood and relations and paperwork, I’d say that Johanna, Louis’ mum, was my real mother.”

Harry took it in his stride and didn’t question him as he spoke, but he did ask a question. “Your dad… When was the last time you saw him?”

And Zayn just shrugged. “Not sure.” Because as he had suppressed any form of memory for the man, he physically could not remember one time when him and his father had properly spoken. All he remembers is the shiver that runs down his spine every time his father’s name is mentioned.

“So.” Harry thought about it for a while, then looked at Zayn again, “is the reason why Louis’ mum means so much to you because she took care of you? Or because your own mum wasn’t there?”

“Both.” Zayn answered with a nod. “Ever since mum started working full time, Jo was the only one who let me stay at her house, she made me lunches, kept a spare bedroom for me. Me and Louis spent so much time together we were practically brothers.”

Zayn smiled, and Harry returned one, but looked into Zayn’s eyes sympathetically.

“Still are.” He commented, his voice almost in a whisper.

“Yeah.” Zayn nodded, his eyes now resting on his hands, which were still in Harry’s.

“So, I guess there’s no real stress about telling your parents, then?”

Zayn frowned, but eventually started nodding again, “hey,” he said with a smile, “Guess not.”

~*~

“So!” Louis almost jumped out of the bus, his bag slightly flying then flopping back down once his feet hit the ground. His eyes were eager, and his voice was tentative but excited, “you sure you wanna do this?”

Unlike Louis, Zayn actually just walked off the bus, joining him as they started walking side by side. It’s strange now, because Louis had always been taller than Zayn when they were growing up, but now all of a sudden Zayn thinks Louis is shrinking more and more each day. Or, of course, Zayn’s just having one of those growth spurts that happen every few months.

And Zayn nodded back to Louis, sucking in a deep breath and pressing his lips into a smile. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Because Zayn had thought through this many times, and every time he did, he knew this would be the right thing to do. He also knew he’d feel ten times better after it.

They entered Louis’ front door, something Zayn had gone through twelve hundred times before. They threw their school bags onto Louis’ bed, and like an automatic process, entered the kitchen.

Louis took out a packet of already made popcorn and tossed it to Zayn, then took one for himself, as well as a passion fruit juice box that Zayn said no to.

They spoke about literature, exams, and school in general. Louis said how much he still hated it and how much he wants to leave but his mum won’t let him. And how he just wants to get into drama, acting, or become a teacher, maybe. Then he talked about some show he saw on TV about the investigation of a lost girl, and how to retrace the steps they had to find all of these clues to match up to who held her hostage - and Louis was absolutely baffled how they found her.

And Zayn didn’t talk at all, really. He just sat there and listened to Louis, knowing that all he was trying to do (subtly) is ease Zayn’s mind. But although it was somewhat easy, Louis had noticed the full, opened packet in Zayn’s hand.

“C’mon, eat up.” Louis prompted; gesturing to the popcorn he’d already finished himself.

Zayn looked down at it and pulled a face, “not really hungry. ‘M too nervous.”

“Zayn,” Louis said, in that tone of voice he always used to calm Zayn down. “I’ve promised a lot of things to you in the past, haven’t I?” Zayn nodded. “And almost always, I do keep my promises, right?”

Zayn nodded again, “always.”

“Well, I’m gonna promise you one more thing. This, here, what you’re about to go? It’s all gonna go how you want it to go - and that, I promise.”

Zayn forced a smile, and Louis walked around the kitchen bench to give Zayn a warm, tight, reassuring hug. Just as the door opened.

They heard her walk down the corridor, the rustling of shopping bags with every step she took. Zayn braced, and told himself to take deep breaths in and out. Louis kept his hand on Zayn’s back, rubbing it ever so slightly in an even rhythm, which seemed to help.

Because the two boys were so quiet, she only realised that they were there when she entered the kitchen and looked up. So quiet, that, she sprung back a bit and let out something like a yelp.

Louis laughed at her reaction, but Zayn felt like his throat was about to close up and his stomach was about to roll away.

She placed the dozen bags onto the bench before she registered that it was Zayn, sitting at the table. But her smile vanished way too quickly once she recognised the state that he was in. Letting out a gasp, she rushed to his side instantly.

“Baby, what happened? I haven’t seen you in ages, are you okay? Do you need an ambulance? How long have these been here?” She grimaced at Louis, “why didn’t you tell me he was like this?”

“Johannah, it’s fine. I’m fine.” Zayn managed to choke out. Because externally, he was coping. Internally, not so much.

“Are you kidding? These bruises? Your arms - oh my God look at your arms!” She carefully picked up one of his limbs to inspect it, the frown on her face and the worry in her expression could almost make Zayn laugh. Louis was already cackling himself.

“Hey, I’m okay. It was just a little accident, I swear.”

Jo gave him a dishonest look, “you sure?”

Zayn took a look at her, too. He hadn’t seen her since the day he took off to find the man that attacked her in the first place. She’d gotten better, of course. The bruising on her eye was hardly noticeable, and the ones on her neck had faded almost fully. Her arms were covered and so were her legs, but the way she was carrying the plastic bags full of food on her forearms, meant they must have healed, too.

“Positive.” Zayn answered, nodding once.

She let out a sound of disbelief but let it slide, “mm okay.” She walked around to the other side of the table and started to unpack the shopping bags. “So, what’s been the news? Haven’t seen you in like what, four weeks?”

“Yeah, about that.” Zayn agreed. And looked over to Louis, who gave him a look as if to say ‘just fucking tell her!’

So, Zayn took in another deep breath, pressed his nails into his palm, and plucked up all the courage he had left in his body.

“Actually, Johannah. I really want to tell you something.”

Johannah stopped, and gave Zayn her full undivided attention. “Yeah, babe. Of course.”

She looked at him in concern, which only made Zayn more anxious. But he sucked it up like Louis had told him to, bit the bullet, and just told her.

“I’m in a relationship…” He trailed off, unsure how to word the second part.

He felt her hands encase his own in comfort, “Zayn! That’s great! What’s she like?”

Zayn swallowed harshly, and avoided any eye contact. He had considered dropping it, backing out and doing it again some other time. But as he looked over to Louis, his eyes were reassuring - which let Zayn know that he believed in him. And that was enough.

“See, the thing is,” Zayn continued, clearing his throat slightly and shifting in his chair, “it’s a… He’s a… I’m seeing a boy.”

The last sentence came out faster than he originally planned, but at least it was out. He let go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding - and finally looked her in the eyes.

“Oh! So, what’s _he_ like, then?” She asked him, completely un-phased at the fact that Zayn just came clean as being _gay_.

He was taken aback. He shared a glance with Louis, who just have him a thumbs up, and Zayn swore he could have been in a dream.

“Harry’s… Great. Yeah, he’s great.” Zayn replied hesitantly, still so unsure of what just took place.

But Jo just sighed in admiration, “that’s lovely, Zayn. I’m glad you’ve found somebody.”

It was then, that Zayn started to cry. He looked into his best friend’s mother’s eyes, and couldn’t have been happier that he told her. Couldn’t have been happier that she didn’t toss him aside, thought differently of him. All those days of being so cautious of what she might do, what she might say, and that all went down the drain because she’s so accepting, so perfect. He let all his emotions fly at that moment.

And just as Zayn thought she had done enough to win ‘mother of the year’ award - no, ‘mother of the universe’ award, she came around and wrapped Zayn in her arms. Whispering the same words Louis always did.

And when he looked up, his eyes locked with Louis’. And he was there, standing so Louis-like, with a smile the size of the moon, and eyes so proud it made Zayn’s heart bubble.

Louis’ mum stopped the embrace to call for a celebration, and Zayn swore he could’ve burst.

~*~

“I won I won I won!” Harry grinned, proud of himself and filled with happiness. He’s kneeling now, hands thrown up into the air.

Zayn pretended to be guttered from losing, his head collapsed to his lap, his hands wrapped around it as a ‘frustrated’ grunt escaped his mouth. But he couldn’t stay like that, because he so wanted to catch Harry in that moment. Fist pumping the air in victory, so happy that he finally actually won a game of scrabble.

“I think I let you win,” Zayn admitted, after Harry calmed down a bit.

But Harry just shook his head, “nope, that’s the first game I’ve ever won. Mum always beats me, but yay!”

And Zayn couldn’t help but smile, because Harry’s dimples were showing and his eyes were lit up, it was so hard not to stare.

Zayn leant over the board, possibly screwing up the letters on it, but he couldn’t care less. He pulled Harry into him, aiming to kiss him innocently on the cheek, but missed and kissed him on the side of the mouth. Harry stopped smiling and took Zayn’s face into his hands, and gave him a real kiss.

Images of pure Harry flashed through Zayn’s head. The expression of his face when Zayn threw him up angrily against the wall. His failed attempts of ‘secretly’ watching Zayn in class and the vague eye contact they shared. The fights, the temptations, the anger. What Harry made him feel, what he _hated_ to feel. The fear, the love, the rush. The first apology, the first kiss, the first time they woke up next to each other. The wreckage, the distance, the tears. From scared, tentative touches to messy, sloppy kisses. From distant glances to hands wrapped around each other. From denial to Harry, frightened to Zayn. _Harry_ and _Zayn._

They pulled apart from the lengthened kiss, eyes meeting each other’s. It seemed that Harry had the same memories, since at the same time, they both whispered softly:

“I love you.”

Slow, meaningful kisses were shared. They rolled around on the carpeted floor, messing up the game as they went. A few blocks pressed into their skin every time they moved, but it was so little they sometimes didn’t notice - or didn’t care.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Harry echoed between kisses, pressing them all over Zayn’s face, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” The last one was pressed against Zayn’s lips, where he kissed back.

Harry was always the one who wasn’t afraid - to say I love you. And Zayn realised he hadn’t said it enough, they weren’t even. And what if there was a doubt in Harry’s mind? What if he was holding onto to hoping Zayn wasn’t thinking of leaving him in a split second?

Zayn reassured him, rolling on top now. He placed both of his knees beside Harry’s hips, and Harry was so hard to keep down because separation for Harry was like death to Zayn. But Zayn managed to keep him down for a little while, enough for him to grab Harry’s face with both hands softly.

His thumbs were in front of his ears, and the rest of his fingers behind his head, underneath the moss of curls. His palm rested on his jawline, and Zayn leant in. Their lips were close, but made sure they didn’t touch.

He made sure Harry was listening, because he wanted to let him know that Zayn meant what he was going to say next. That they’re not just three words that are easy to toss around, that Zayn _meant_ them with every inch of himself. And it’s the only thing he feels for Harry, and he deserved to know.

So Zayn stared at him, absorbing the green in Harry’s eyes, and said the words, not whispered. He paused between each word, emphasising each one.

_“I. love. you.”_

——~**~——


	19. Epilogue

A year has passed, and senior year came around faster than they thought.

Harry’s dad finally came home, and when he told him the news, and filled him in on his sexuality, it took him a while to accept it. But after a week or so it didn’t seem to faze him, and now Harry and his dad are closer than ever.

Zayn tried to tell his family, he started with his mum, who at first didn’t have the time to listen to her son. Her phone kept ringing and Zayn decided to keep it for another time. Second time round, he told her. It was long-winded and he kept muddling up his words - but he told her. She was taken aback at first, and didn’t react anywhere near as well as Louis’ mum, but wasn’t as bad as Zayn thought she’d be.

_”You’re gay?” She asked him, eyes wider than usual, “but I though you liked girls?”_

Zayn had to explain that he was in a relationship with a boy, and his mum struggled on finding her way around it. But eventually gave him a one armed hug and thanked him for telling her.

After weeks of fear, he decided to tell his dad. Although the relief had already released off his chest and he felt like he could breathe again, he still felt horrible hiding something massive from him. And Harry told his dad, so why not?

He still wasn’t home, so he called him instead. He tried to tell him at once, didn’t want to sugar-coat anything. This was probably worse, since Zayn had to hang up on the abuse.

_”What?” He asked in a menacing tone, and Zayn could practically feel the anger radiating through the earpiece. “This better not be another one of your fucking pranks Zayn Malik or I swear to God.”_

There were also insults and curses thrown around, too. Which let Zayn to hurl his phone across the room, making it fly into the window. He punched his wall, tears welling up in his eyes. He gave up once he could feel himself becoming weak, and crawled up into a ball on his bed, sobbing harshly into his pillow.

Arms linked around him, and kisses were placed on his neck. Harry’s voice whispered sweet nothing’s in his ear until he fell asleep in his hold.

At school, things were better. Of course Harry and Zayn didn’t exclaim that they were gay, they knew not everyone liked the sight of them kissing in the hallway. So they kept the kisses to a minimum, and made the displays of affection only holding hands and hugging every now and then.

Liam joined the soccer team, and Louis did too, but Liam was much too big and tough and always managed to tackle Louis down in one go. So Louis quit and only plays at home, without having to worry about breaking a bone.

Louis also took up drama outside of school, and has found a university he wants to go to for a schooling degree, so he can teach drama to students when he leaves school.

Niall dropped out. He found a job working full-time at his favourite restaurant, and wants to become a manager there. When the boys come to visit they hope to get a meal for half the price, but Niall tells them to fuck off and take a seat because he ‘takes this business seriously’.

And Zayn has a job now, too. He works with Louis’ cousin, at a small comic book store on weekends. He also lives with Louis now, since his mums always leaving anyway. And the fear of his dad entering in the middle of the night to strangle him to death was way too frightening for him to stay. So now Louis’ spare room belongs to Zayn, and he keeps it clean every day.

"We should go on a holiday." Harry suggested to Zayn one night as they settled in on Harry’s couch, a movie playing in the back ground. "You know, just me and you. Nobody else."

"A holiday?" Zayn questioned, playing with Harry’s fingers absentmindedly.

"Yeah, it’ll be fun."

So after packing and after setting up the route in the GPS that Harry’s dad got for Christmas, they were off. The music was loud in the car, the windows were down, and the only thing in front of their eyes was the road. They both knew where they were headed without any further discussion, the day was beautiful - they couldn’t have picked a better day to leave.

"Did you know," Harry started as they were silent for a while, and Zayn was concentrating on the road, "that I have a secret?"

"Not anymore you don’t," Zayn replied, turning down the volume of the music until it was almost inaudible. He turned his head towards Harry, "Spill."

"Like, this has been absolutely killing me. I shouldn’t even tell you this but like, I feel so bad keeping it from you when it’s _such_ massive news and-"

"Harry." Zayn’s voice was slow and stern now, his eyes still focused on the road, "tell me."

Harry cleared his throat nervously and shifted in the passenger seat, “okay. Okay,” he turned towards him, “so you know Brian?”

Harry could practically _feel_ the sourness that radiated off Zayn’s skin as that name was mentioned. But Zayn kept his mouth sealed shut, and responded with a nod as a cue for Harry to continue.

"Yeah - well," Harry fidgeted again, and a voice in his head told him that this was a secret, but another half told him that Brian wouldn’t have ever kept a secret for Harry, so he did continue. "He’s gay."

Zayn choked on air. He almost slammed down on the breaks, and Harry thought he might have died.

"What?!" He asked, his eyes bulging.

"Well, we _think_ he is. We’re not sure, but… yeah."

After collecting himself, Zayn cleared his throat, “Woah.” He concentrated on the road again, a frown forming. Until he turned to Harry, “who’s ‘we’?”

"Me and Louis. He’s the one who - you know. Found out."

"Oh," Zayn raised an eyebrow suspiciously, "since when were you and Louis new best friends, eh?"

Harry knew he was playing around, and the smile on Zayn’s face was obvious. And Harry leaned back into his chair, focusing on the road, too.

"When we were looking for you."

Zayn stayed silent. And Harry didn’t want to avert his gaze to look at him; he already knew what his expression would be. Apologetic and reserved, just like every other time someone brings up how distressed his best friend and partner were when he suddenly ‘vanished’.

But after a few seconds, Zayn spoke up again. “So… how did Louis find out, then?”

"Apparently," Harry began, lifting his knees so they leant up against the dashboard, "at camp, they kissed."

Zayn let out a gasp, “no.”

Harry smiled, “yes.”

And Zayn couldn’t control the laughter that barrelled through him. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day!”

"So now we know why he was such a bastard to us."

It’d been a year since Brian outed Zayn and Harry in the cafeteria, and since they had a punch on. He hadn’t spoken much to either of them, and had kind of seemed to retreat a little into himself. But nobody knew why.

"Do you reckon he’s still in denial?" Zayn asked him.

Harry shrugged, “probably. I bet he’s got a boyfriend on the side, though. That’s why he’s been so secretive lately.”

After laughing, Zayn nodded. “Yeah, poor thing.”

~*~

In the hotel room, the candles burned bright. The only source of lighting was from them, and like the cliché you see in every fucking movie, there were rose petals - fucking _rose_ petals - laid out on the floor in a trail to what must have been a bedroom.

"Go get us some alcohol," Harry had said. "I’ll meet you back in the hotel room." He said.

Fucking bastard.

Zayn walked through the door shaking his head. He held onto the packaged bottles and was careful not to step on the petals because wow they looked delicate. When he shut the door, he heard movement three doors down. He took a step inside.

"Wait!" Called Harry, still not making an appearance, "what’s your favourite song?"

Zayn rolled his eyes, “Uhh-”

"Never mind. Got it."

Sounding through the speakers was something from Chris Brown, an old song, might he add. The song that was in his top 25 played on iTunes. The little sucker did his research, too.

"Harry," Zayn started to say, tip-toeing through the petals as he made his way towards the music. He appeared at the doorframe of the bedroom, and might as well have detached his jaw and placed it at his feet from how wide it fell open.

Petals - a shit load more of rose petals - covered the double bed. That’s where the trail led. And more candles, at each corner of the room. It smelt like all different aromas, but somehow all combined. There were even little love heart chocolates placed on the pillows, and a freaking _teddy bear_ holding on to a heart that said ‘I love you’. Zayn could’ve choked on his own vomit, but really couldn’t deny his heart beating 100 times faster than normal.

Then there was Harry.

He wasn’t wearing the same outfit. His shoes were black, leather. But his suit was grey - his fucking _suit_ \- and his tie was black, but a shade lighter than his shoes. And he was holding - not just one flower - but a motherfucking bouquet of _roses_. Does this guy ever stop?

Then after processing it all, Zayn looked at Harry. His expression was a greeting smile. This stupid boy has led him in using a trail of petals, and has covered their whole bed with roses, dimmed the lights and put candles everywhere, put on what he hoped would be Zayn’s favourite song, and presented himself in a suit and tie with a bouquet of flowers. And a _smile_.

"Hi." He said, just standing there looking cute as heck.

Zayn was speechless, he didn’t know whether to smile and kiss him lightly - or to rip that expensive suit off and fuck him dead.

But Harry was already walking towards him, and Zayn felt like he was back at school, when the first time Harry had kissed him before they were seeing each other. The feeling of nervousness and butterflies over took his body. But Zayn played it cool.

"You proposing to me or something, Styles?"

And Harry laughed, took the grog out of Zayn’s hands and placed the flowers down next to it on a nearby table. His arms laced around his neck and he pecked his lips softly.

"Happy anniversary babe."

Zayn’s eyes widened, his blood ran cold. “It’s o-our anniversary?”

Harry nodded in certification, “our one year anniversary, actually.”

He kissed Zayn’s nose just as Zayn couldn’t breathe, “holy shit.”

Harry chuckled, and pecked his very frozen lips once before heading over to crack open the bottles Zayn got from the store. He started to talk about something, but Zayn’s mind was too fuzzed up to listen.

He didn’t even care about trampling the petals now; he sat on the edge of the bed, eyes boggling and mouth open. A whole _year_? How hasn’t Zayn noticed that? Their anniversary - and Zayn had no clue.

Wow he felt like a prick.

"-ay?"

Harry’s voice rang through his mind emptily, and looked up to notice that he had been spoken to.

"What?"

Harry smiled, “I said, are you okay?”

Zayn nodded weakly and forced a smile, he stood up as best he could, and placed his hands on Harry’s hips.

"You know," Zayn whispered, pressing kisses to Harry’s lips, "I was actually gonna organise something with the two us, but…" He looked around the room, "guess you beat me to it."

Harry laughed out loud, “Come off it.”

He pushed Zayn in the chest lightly and Zayn gawked. Harry laughed again and returned to filling two glasses up, making sure they were even, the little angel.

"So," Harry began again, turning around with the two glasses in his hand, handing one to Zayn with that never disappearing smile, "do you like it?"

If Zayn was honest, he’d say no. Because he didn’t like the clichéd look of the place. The trail of petals, the music, the candles, the man waiting in a suit with a bouquet, the drinks, the bed covered in red petals, the chocolates, the teddy bear… If Zayn was honest he’d say,

"No. I love it."

And with a grin, Harry clinked their glasses together, and they both took a drink at the same time, watching each other as they did so. And Zayn took the chance to _admire_ him, because he was in a suit, and when has he ever seen Harry in one of those? Never. But he was starting to think that he should wear it for every day of his life - since he looked so damn good Zayn could hardly take his eyes away.

And Harry admired Zayn. Compared to Harry, the average person would say that Zayn looked ordinary, informal. But as Zayn’s brown eyes sparkled and his teeth showed through his small smile, Harry had to fight the urge to forget about their drinks, pounce onto this hot piece of meat, and have his way with him like he’d been fantasising since he walked through the door.

"Have to admit," Zayn began, interrupting Harry’s images, "never really pinned you to be the romantic type."

"Is that so?" Harry said with a smirk, leaning down on the bed, his elbow propped up and his chin resting on his palm.

"Well, yeah." Zayn copied Harry’s posture, until they were eye to eye, facing each other lying down. "You’ve never taken me on like, a real date-"

"That’s because you don’t like dates!" Harry told him defensively, his smile suddenly vanishing.

"No, no. I know." Zayn reassured, motioning Harry to lie back down, "I’m just saying," he smiled, trailing his finger up Harry’s side, "it’s nice."

"Well," Harry responded, taking Zayn’s wondering hand, "I’m glad you like it."

"But honestly," Zayn looked up towards the head of the bed, picked up the teddy bear, and shook it in front of Harry’s eyes.

"Hey!" Harry snatched it from him and pretended to cuddle it, "I think it’s cute."

Zayn laughed, and picked up the chocolates on the bed, “and these?”

"Yeah, see I didn’t actually buy them. They were already there when I came in."

"Love-heart chocolates," Zayn inspected them, and then turned to Harry disbelievingly, "really?"

"Yes! Hey, you never know. Maybe we have a secret admirer in this building."

"Ooh," Zayn placed his glass on the bedside table, and then leaned in to kiss Harry, "maybe we do."

~

Harry woke up to the sweet smell of coffee and bacon, and the sound of movement from down the hall, and the faint humming of a voice so lovely in Harry’s ears it made him smile.

He rolled out of bed, and in nothing but his boxers, crept up behind Zayn. Who, by the way, was actually singing by this point, and shaking his hips which made it hard for Harry to keep quiet. Zayn was just placing the bread into the toaster, when Harry took a step forwards and zapped Zayn’s sides. He watched Zayn jump, turn around, and hit Harry’s arm lightly with a smile.

"You scared me."

"That was the point." Harry said, and kissed Zayn on the cheek as he turned back around.

He looked at the room. The dining table was set, two placemats next to each other, both complete with a knife and fork on each side with a plate right in the middle. Zayn must have snagged some petals off the floor because there was a circle of them as a centrepiece, and the bouquet Harry got was already in a vase. There were eggs and bacon frying, coffee steaming, and bread toasting. And Harry had to press another kiss to Zayn.

"What’s all this for?"

Zayn walked to the fridge, “are you kidding?” He took out the orange juice and unscrewed the lid, “I had to repay you somehow.”

He handed one glass of OJ to Harry, who took it willingly. It wasn’t a comparison to the beverage they had last night, but it was still what he needed in the morning.

"You’ve already paid me back." Harry winked, and took his cup up to his lips.

"A drunken blow job doesn’t count, Haz."

"No… but riding me does."

Zayn gave him a look, and pinched his nipple slightly, making Harry yelp, “shut up.”

Breakfast was nice. It wasn’t every morning where they could look up at each other in private, hold each other’s hands, and feed each other playfully.

"It was good we did this." Zayn commented, pushing aside his plate from the remains of his breakfast.

"Shame we have to go back tonight, though."

"Ergh," Zayn groaned, and let his face fall into his hands, "school is killing me."

"Me too." Harry agreed, resting a hand on Zayn’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

"Mm, what’s the time?"

"Uh... 10:46."

Zayn let out a bigger groan, and slouched over the table. He didn’t think it’d be _that_ early. How the hell did he even manage to wake up before Harry anyway?

"This is the earliest I’ve seen you up, you okay?" Harry asked, half-joke, half-serious. Zayn just made a sound in return, and Harry thought that maybe he was already heading back to sleep.

So Harry cleaned up as Zayn’s eyes closed over the table. He washed the dishes, packed away the condiments, and even made the bed since they won’t be sleeping in it anymore. When Zayn woke up, he made a comment about how clean the place was, and slapped Harry on the bum telling him that he’s too nice for his own good, and Harry took a nip at his ear.

"You packed?" Zayn asked him, heading towards the bathroom in the en-suite.

"Erm, yeah. And I uh, packed yours… too."

Zayn stopped in his tracks, “you didn’t.”

And Harry nodded weakly, suddenly ashamed of it since Zayn’s last remark.

But instead of another attack, Zayn smiled, “thanks, man.”

~

The ride home was a dusty one. The dirt road was a lot dirtier than the first time they crossed it. Or maybe it was because the music wasn’t as loud, or the anxiousness in Harry’s ears weren’t there anymore.

Because Zayn didn’t seem to notice the amount of rocks flying in every direction, or how jolty it was being. They ran over a huge ditch, making the car bounce with so much force, Harry nearly hit his head on the roof of the car.

"Pwoah - that was some real-"

But when Harry looked over to him, Zayn was already asleep.

~

"Hey, Zayn?"

"Yo,"

"Do you reckon we’ll regret this?"

The place stank like smoke and ink and a smell of something else Harry didn’t recognise. The man in the other room was buff; his arms would rip any sleeve that he would attempt to put on. Not to mention the endless collection of tattoos spread up and down his whole arm. If he was wearing something else, Harry was sure the guy’s whole body would be coloured in, even his neck had a few.

Zayn looked around, and stared down at the bare, cleaned skin on the table.

"Do you regret the ones you have now?"

Harry looked down onto his own body, and overlapped his bottom lip as he tilted his head, “sometimes.”

Zayn laughed just as the tattoo artist entered the room with the ink and the needle. Harry had done this many times before, but the thrill of it still bubbled all the same.

"Okay, who’s first?"

~

"You got tattoos together?!" Louis didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. "Please tell me they’re different."

"Well… what if they were the same?"

"Oh, dude." Louis braced himself against the wall, "you may as well get married here and now."

"Shut up, Lou." Zayn walked past the two of them, and palmed Louis’ forehead, "they’re only little."

He snuck underneath Harry’s arm, wrapping an arm around his waist and pressing a kiss against his neck.

"Well, I’ll give you this, Harry. Once Zayn gets a tattoo, you’re there for life, there’s no escaping it." Louis replied, and Zayn laughed, "See this massive one on his forearm?"

"The zap?"

"Yeah, that’s for me." Louis nodded, proudly.

Zayn pulled up his sleeve and ran his finger across it. Harry’s seen it plenty times before, seen every little detail. But he still admires it like the first time - he admires everything about Zayn like it’s the first time.

"Ours wasn’t that big," Harry whispered.

And the look in Zayn’s eyes was so cute Harry could cry.

"I’m kidding." Harry cracked a smile and Zayn exhaled, "I love ours."

"Yes, speaking of," Louis gestured towards them, "let’s see!"

And all they did was hold hands. Their fingers interlocked, and their palms rested against each other. Louis was confused at first, but after seeing both their eyes gaze down at their hands, Louis saw it.

It was the smallest ribbon you could get, and on Zayn’s hand it only had a ‘Z’, with Harry’s, a ‘H’. But when they pressed together it looked like the ribbon connected, and apart, it was ripped.

And usually, Louis would laugh at Zayn’s tattoos, and most recently he’d laugh at Harry’s, too. But this one was different, it was small so it wasn’t like they’d regret it instantly, and it obviously meant something to the both of them. It was smart, too, Louis gave them that, and when he looked up to say something, all he could see was Harry and Zayn, looking at each other like nothing else existed, and that’s when Louis knew it was perfect.

"I’ve gotta be honest, guys." He announced, breaking the gaze, "I like it."

~

"Hey, Harry?"

"Yeah,"

"Never leave me."

They were lying in Harry’s bed, the storm was loud outside and Zayn was curled up to Harry’s body, shuddering every time a loud crack of thunder echoed above their heads. Harry would soothe Zayn, patting his hair quietly and hugging him tighter every time Zayn flinched. But eventually Harry started to doze off, and even though the storm was still there, Zayn began to get over it.

He sat up, opening up Harry’s eyes, and caressed his face lightly.

"I would never leave you." Harry confirmed, leaning Zayn in and kissed his lips tight, like sealing the deal.

"Stay with me forever?"

Another kiss, and Harry was sold. “Forever.”

——~**~——

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow I really need to say thank you for all your kind comments and kudos. I've really enjoyed writing this and I hope you've all enjoyed reading it! 
> 
> I couldn't end the Zarry there, I just had to do an epilogue haha. But yeah basically thank you for reading and commenting, I love you all!
> 
> (Also, if you're interested in Zouis, you can read mine [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/858445?view_full_work=true) xx)
> 
> ♡ [tumblr](louiswmalik.tumblr.com) ♡


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